


Abbie Mills and the Minister

by HappyHappyReader



Series: Abbie Mills and the Minister [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unitarian Universalism, minister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyHappyReader/pseuds/HappyHappyReader
Summary: Abbie is an officer in the Sleepy Hollow police department who is trying to recover from a work-related trauma. Minister Ichabod Crane would like to help, if he can.I will say up front, I have no real idea where this is going, except that it will be a slow burn, but I hope you're as interested to find out as I am. Thanks for reading.





	1. Chapter 1

Abbie couldn’t believe her co-worker and friend Frank talked her into going to church with him on the snowy January Sunday. Yeah, sure it was true that she’d been out of sorts since she’d had to shoot a suspect last Halloween, killing him. Internal Affairs had ruled it a just kill, but Abbie still couldn’t get the twenty year old kid’s face out of her dreams and it was starting to show. She felt like shit, unable to get a decent night's sleep. Regardless, Abbie didn’t hold out much hope that attending the Unitarian Universalist service would help, but here she was…Frank was a really persistent SOB when he wanted to be. That’s what made him a good cop and an even better friend.

Abbie stood up straighter when the service started and the minister came out from her left. Her breath caught…he was young – maybe mid-thirties, tall and handsome with wavy brown hair, a full beard and startlingly blue eyes that Abbie could clearly see even three rows back. But what impressed her the most was his air of kindness. It radiated off him like a wave.

Abbie almost slapped Frank when he leaned over with a smirk to whisper, “His name is Minister Ichabod Crane. And he’s single.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Abbie mouthed back at Frank, rolling her eyes just as Minister Crane looked at her with a slight lift of his eyebrow, letting Abbie know that her lips had been read – loud and clear. _Fuck._ She felt the heat rise from her chest all the way to her hairline, thankful that he couldn’t see her blush, although as Minister Crane gazed at her for a beat too long, Abbie Mills strongly suspected he knew.

Looking away, Minister Ichabod, as Abbie already thought of the man, opened the service with words of welcome. His obvious English accent surprised Abbie – Frank hadn’t mentioned  _that_ – but she was more surprised by how much it calmed her to listen to the words, his soft, gentle inflections a sudden and much-needed balm. _Crap_ , Abbie thought a bit bitterly, _just my luck. Frank was right and I’ll probably never hear the end of it._

Abbie reached over into her bag and retrieved a twenty dollar bill, handing it over to one _very_ smug looking Frank Irving. He’d won the bet fair and square and Abbie never reneged on a bet. It was a source of personal pride. Since she was eighteen, Abbie had stood on her own and paid her debts, no matter what it cost her.

She gave Frank a death stare, daring him to do anything other than take his money and be quiet. Seeing Frank knew better than to risk his life in a church, Abbie turned back to the service…to Minister Ichabod...exhaling for the first time in months.


	2. A New Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets Abbie to stay for the after church coffee and cake as new truths are revealed. Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated.

Abbie followed Frank out of the sanctuary, hoping to grab her coat and make a quick escape. She’d enjoyed the service, much to her surprise. It was low key and unlike any service Abbie had ever experienced growing up in the various foster homes she and Jenny were placed in before Abbie got them out. She liked the ministers, both of them.

That pain in the ass Frank Irving had other ideas, “Where are you going?” he asked, lightly wrapping her arm around his. If Abbie could have dislodged his arm without the entire church knowing, she would have, but instead, she played nice.

“Home,” Abbie answered, doing her best to remove her arm from where it was entangled with Frank’s with no luck. He was good, she had to give him that much, “I’ll admit, the service was nice. I feel more relaxed Frank, ok? I might even get a full eight hours tonight.” Abbie shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. Frank wasn’t buying it.

“Nah, Mills…fellowship isn’t done until you’ve had some cake and coffee,” Frank led Abbie away from the coat rack and the exit towards a small dining area off the side of the sanctuary.

Abbie entered the room pulled by Frank but drawn by the strong smell of coffee. Frank knew he could let go of Abbie’s arm when she started unconsciously pulling him in the direction of her favorite elixir. Mills loved her coffee, but first things first…

“Reverend Crane,” Frank called over to where Ichabod Crane was speaking with a young member of the congregation.

“I thought you said he was a minister,” Abbie stage whispered, confused.

“Technically, I’m both,” Minister…Reverend… _whatever_ answered Abbie’s question with a soft smile, coming over to the pair, “UU has ministers or pastors, but as I am a clergyman as well, Reverend is also correct.”

“Ok. That’s…cool, I guess.” Abbie replied. She was still confused, but not because of the titles. She was confused why looking at this _clergyman in a collar for God’s sake_ was doing things to her. Abbie knew she had issues, but come on!

“Excuse me Abbie, Reverend Crane. I see someone I need to talk to about…something.” Frank walked away with a careless, “Be right back,” before Abbie could stop him. She knew damn well that he didn’t have “somebody” to talk to and now she was stuck with the _Reverend_. Jesus take the wheel, as one of her better foster parents used to say.

“How did you like the service, Miss…”

“Mills. Abbie Mills,” Abbie replied, “I enjoyed it a lot. More than I thought I would,” she continued more to herself. Abbie realized belatedly that her assessment might have sounded like Grade A bitchiness and quickly tried to correct herself, “I didn’t mean that the way it probably sounded. Really. Just…just ignore me. Okay? I haven’t been sleeping the best lately.”

“I wasn’t offended at all, Miss Mills. To me, it’s far better for you to have liked the service more than you thought you would than the other way around.” Ichabod smiled and Abbie found herself smiling back. He was so damn easy. _Too_ _easy_ , Abbie thought suddenly. Time to go.

Abbie looked around to say her goodbyes to Frank but his punk ass was nowhere in sight. Of course. “I’m sorry to duck out, but I have to go.”

“Why are you having trouble sleeping?” Ichabod asked curiously, unwilling to let her leave just yet.

“Uh…it’s complicated.” Abbie replied evasively.

Ichabod stepped back from Abbie, respecting her boundaries, whatever they were. But he still wanted to help, “I’ve been told that I lend a good ear…”

“Oh, that’s really nice of you Reverend…Ich-…Crane. I’ll be fine,” Abbie literally waved away his concern, her hand passing in front her face with a small smile.

“I have no doubt you’ll be fine eventually Miss Mills. You seem very capable,” Ichabod stepped closer again, handing Abbie a card with his name, office number and email address listed on it, “I’m always in my office here at the church between six and eight pm on Thursdays for anyone who’d like to talk. You can stay the full two hours, five minutes or not at all. It’s completely up to you.”

Abbie looked up at Reverend Crane in thanks. His blue eyes met her brown, holding.  Abbie was grown ass woman enough to admit that she liked having to look up at him and she liked looking into his eyes. Abbie was petite but there were few people, much less men that made her completely aware of her small size. He did. It was _really_ time to go.

“I’m not a member of the church,” Abbie countered, “and I don’t plan on joining. No offense.”

Ichabod’s small smile was as kind as his voice, “None taken.  You don’t have to be a member to visit during office hours. If you want me to listen. I’ll listen. Gladly, Miss Mills.”

"Thank you," Abbie tried for gracious. It wasn’t Reverend Crane’s fault she was going to kill Frank Irving with her bare hands for leaving her with a six foot tall, blue-eyed, beautiful _collar-wearing_ man of God. “Would you do me a favor?”

Icabod moved closer to Abbie, seemingly unaware that he was now standing in her personal space, “Anything Miss Mills. Just ask.”

 _Well that wasn’t a loaded reply_ , Abbie thought, “Would you tell Frank I said goodbye, sorry and I’ll see him at work tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Ichabod replied with a slight bow, which would have made Abbie laugh if she hadn’t caught on.  He wasn’t trying to be funny or overboard. That’s just who he was towards everyone, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Abbie turned to leave when she heard him, “Thursdays from six to eight pm.  In case you would like to reconsider.”

“I appreciate you Reverend Crane. I really do,” Abbie said, “and I promise I'll keep your office hours in mind.” Abbie replied softly, bestowing a smile so bright Ichabod wondered for a few seconds why he wasn’t suddenly blind from the brilliance of it.

“She’s pretty,” Reverend Leena Reyes said from behind Ichabod as they both watched Abbie walk across the vestibule, remove her heavy winter coat from the rack and leave, going out into the cold. Leena had observed the pair as they talked.

“Beg pardon,” Ichabod replied, turning slightly to his mentor and friend. Leena was due to take an extended sabbatical soon, leaving Ichabod to be the head minister. As Leena had told the church board, it was time for her and her wife to take a long overdue second honeymoon trip around the world.

Leena gave Ichabod a side eyed look from under her eyelashes, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me Crane. She’s pretty.”

“She was a guest of Frank Irving – a work colleague,” Ichabod stood up taller, if that were possible, putting his hands firmly and Leena knew, defensibly, behind his back.

“Doesn’t mean she’s not pretty,” Leena replied, pressing her point.

Ichabod sighed, “She may come to talk on Thursdays.”

“All the more reason for you to acknowledge that you think she’s pretty,” Leena counseled, "You and I both know that before you’re a minister, you’re a man. Don’t let denying it put you in a position you can’t handle.”

“Understood. Thank you Leena. As always,” Ichabod stood surrounded by the congregation that stayed to enjoy the cake and coffee silently coming to terms with a new truth – Abbie Mils wasn’t just pretty. She was the most beautiful woman Ichabod Crane had ever seen.


	3. Frank Irving Does Not Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Abbie talk about her ongoing issues and Irving gives some insight into why he thinks Crane can help Abbie. Comments are welcome, kudos are cool and mistakes are all on me.

Abbie walked across the police department, her fifth cup of coffee blissfully in hand. It was ten o’clock on a blustery Wednesday morning. Abbie told herself the hot coffee was to hold off the cold in the older, slightly drafty police department. _Yeah, that’s it, nice try Mills,_ Abbie thought.  She’d had a half way decent night’s sleep after arriving home from church on Sunday, but the rest of the week so far had been pretty bad. Luckily Abbie had managed to avoid talking to Frank Irving about her continuing nightmares and the interesting, but thoroughly off limits, Reverend Ichabod Crane. Abbie blamed the lack of sleep for getting caught with her pants down.

“Mills, how many cups is that so far today?” Frank asked, suddenly blocking Abbie’s path like some animated toy in a horror movie. _Pop! Evil clown face._

Abbie wasn’t above a small white lie, especially when the questions were standing between her and a mountain of paperwork, “Two,” she replied, looking Frank in the eye.

Abbie realized with an inward groan that Frank wasn’t even going to dignify her obvious lie with an answer. His ass knew Abbie had two cups of strong, black coffee before she got dressed in the morning and that had been _before_ the shooting. Frank simply crossed his arms and waited as he continued to stand between Abbie and her desk.

“Fine,” Abbie said, gritting her teeth and stepping around Frank to take her seat. Frank followed right on her heels, _like a pit bull,_ Abbie noted, her lip curling slightly.

“Don’t give me the sneer, Mills. You know it doesn’t work on me.”

“Does anything short of calling your wife work on you?” Abbie asked with half-serious mocking.

“Not yet,” Frank replied baldly, leaning over to place his hands on the front of Abbie’s desk, “and you didn’t answer the question. How many?”

“I did answer you,” Abbie countered, keeping her head down, pretending to focus on processing paperwork for recovered stolen goods.

“Let’s try the _truth_ this time Mills,” Frank emphasized that he knew Abbie was stamping her passport to Hell with that two cups lie. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Abbie looked up from the work that wasn’t getting done anytime soon and confessed, “Five. So far.”

"Come with me,” Frank ordered as he stood tall and walked to the small conference, holding the door open for Abbie.  The last thing Abbie wanted was to listen to the lecture she knew Frank was about to deliver. Irving was a hard ass, snarky and sarcastic, but no one… _no one_ cared for his people like he did and Frank had determined when the pint sized dynamo joined the force years ago that Abbie Mills was _his_ people.

He at least waited until Abbie took a seat before laying into her.  “You know you can’t keep this up,” Frank started without preamble, “You need help – to talk to someone.”

Abbie rolled her head in a circle, trying to relieve the tension in her shoulders. Didn’t help, just like she knew it wouldn’t but it gave her a few seconds to compose a decent defense, or so she thought, “I am talking to someone. I go to see the therapist every week, as ordered.” Even though Internal Affairs had determined that Abbie was not at fault for the shooting, she was still mandated to see a department therapist every week before she was allowed back to full duty. The department therapist, Zoe Corinth, was harmless enough and Abbie had spent so many years in foster care it wasn’t hard for her to waste an hour each week telling the therapist absolutely nothing of importance.  Abbie wouldn’t have bothered to go except she wanted to keep her job.  She had five sessions left with the therapist and then she was free.

“ _Abbie, really?”_ Frank replied, half sitting on the table with one leg, bending slightly towards her, “Do better. You know I’m not stupid and I know you aren’t either.” Abbie looked at Frank and for the first time since the shooting saw true concern in his eyes.  He was _worried_ about her.

“Look, I’ll be ok, “Abbie rolled her head again, _Damn my neck hurts_ , she acknowledged _._ “You don’t have to worry about me Frank. I’m a big girl…been handling my business for a long time and I can handle this,” Abbie went to stand up, giving Frank her best ‘I’m fine’ smile, “Promise.”

Frank put his hand on Abbie’s shoulder, gently but effectively forcing her to retake the seat, “But you’re not handling it.  It’s bad enough you’re not sleeping, but how long have you had the neck pain? What’s next? Headaches?” Frank stood from the table and paced in front of Abbie, wiping his hand down his face with a sigh, “You need help, Abbie. And not the department shrink that none of us trust as far as we can throw her, although that woman is so skinny, even you could probably throw her across town.”

Abbie smirked at Frank’s words, “Petty.”

“Yeah, well, I never claimed to be all that nice.” Frank volleyed back, “Listen, I don’t know if I told you this, but after Macey had her accident, I was in a really bad place. It could have ended me and Cynthia – it almost did.”

Abbie’s eyebrows raised in surprise. A couple of years ago, Frank’s daughter Macey now fifteen, was struck by a car and had been using a wheelchair ever since.  The family had a rough time of it, Abbie knew, but from where she sat, they had come through alright, “What happened?”

“The good reverend happened,” Frank chuckled as he paced in the small space, “He saw me in the supermarket, of all places, about to go full on, bat shit crazy because the fish department didn’t have the salmon Macey wanted for dinner. My little girl wanted salmon and I was going to get it, come hell or high water. I couldn’t make her walk again, but I could get her the _goddamn_ fish.”

 _“Frank_ …” Abbie’s eyes welled up with sudden tears. She knew the pain of not being to help someone you loved. She knew it too well.

“He talked me down right there in the fish department. Gave me the salmon he had purchased for his _own_ dinner that night and his card offering to talk any time I needed.” Frank stopped pacing and turned back to look at Abbie. Frank knew she was strong, so strong, but there was only so much even the strongest people could take without breaking. The last thing Frank Irving wanted was to see Abbie Mills break. He didn’t even want to know what that looked like.

“I started going to see him once a week, just to talk for a few minutes. Sometimes he would just sit with me for an hour - no judgement. Eventually, he met Macey and Cynthia. We started attending services from there even though he never said a thing about us attending church.  Cynthia was so happy with how I was, she wanted to know what had turned things around for me. Bottom line, Mills...things got better for all of us and I _know_ it’s because of Reverend Crane,” Frank held up his hands in defense and explanation, “Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he’s some type of Messiah or something –“

Abbie joked with a side tilt of her head, “That’s good, because I was starting to wonder if he could turn water into wine. That would be _really_ helpful.”

“Cute, Mills. Cute.” Frank deadpanned before returning Abbie’s half smile, “Look, all I’m saying is I think he can help you. He’s got no agenda…he’s not a counselor or a shrink and he’s not evaluating you for a return to full duty.”

Frank squatted down to look up into Abbie’s deep, brown eyes, seeing not for the first time, the vulnerability she worked so hard to hide.  Very few people saw Abbie’s soft underbelly.  Frank knew he was privileged to have her trust. “You need help Abbie. Not just the cop, but the person behind the badge. Give him a chance and if it doesn’t work out, fine. But try…for me. Ok?”

Abbie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it with what she hoped was a lot of the tension of the last few days. Abbie could count on one hand the number of people in her life who cared this much about her well-being. She felt she owed this to Frank and maybe, her mind whispered from the most hopeful parts of her soul, Abbie owed it to herself.

Opening her eyes to look at Frank, Abbie declared with a sharp nod, “Ok. I’ll do it.”

Abbie was rewarded with Frank’s relieved smile as she stood, “But don’t think you were slick with your ‘I just have to go to talk to someone and oh, he’s single…would you look at that?” Abbie said with singsong sarcasm.

“I’m not saying marry the man, but you two _do_ look good together…a kiss or two wouldn’t kill you.” Frank shrugged.

“Fences and hedges, Frank,” Abbie answered, hand on the doorknob ready to return to her work – and damn, her now cold coffee, “Besides, it hasn’t been that long since I got rid of Luke. What do I want with another questionable man?”

Frank immediately came to Reverend Crane’s defense, “Don’t slander the good reverend by equating him with Morales,” pointing a finger at Abbie, “I told you not to date his trifling ass. _Told you_ , but do you listen to good, old Frank? Noooo…”

Abbie laughed as she opened the door, throwing back, “I’m still not interested in dating the minister Frank. He’s not for me.”

Frank let Abbie return to her desk before leaving the conference room saying under his breath, “We’ll see about that Mills. We’ll see about that.”

 

 

 

 


	4. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie visits with Ichabod...and they talk. 
> 
> Comments are so appreciated, I can't tell you. Thanks for each and every one of the comments I've received so far. I value each one. Mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ichabod heard the soft knock on his office door and replied “Come in, Miss Mills.”

Abbie had emailed yesterday to inform him she planned on stopping by. He responded with a perfectly cordial, “I look forward to seeing you” which was true. Ichabod was looking forward to seeing Abbie Mills. How could he not? He’d spent the last three days (and nights) preparing himself. He knew Frank wanted his friend to come for a talk and that Irving would probably succeed in at least getting the strong-willed woman to try. In his mind Ichabod reviewed the facts again:

FACT: Abbie Mills was beautiful. From the top of her curly, shoulder length hair, down her petite, but perfectly curved body all the way to her boot encased, dainty feet…there was no part of her that Ichabod didn’t admire.

FACT: Abbie Mills was smart. Even their brief conversation promised hours of engaging, challenging exchanges that would stimulate him intellectually and emotionally. 

FACT: Abbie Mills was in pain. So much pain Ichabod could see it as clearly as he saw her beautiful, silken skin and the brown eyes that drew him in like a siren.

It was her pain Ichabod focused on. It was not her fault or problem that he found her physically exquisite and intellectually interesting. She needed help and he would give it. So Ichabod told himself he could handle whatever emotions being around Abbie Mills would bring if he could help her. Her well-being was his mission.

Abbie opened the door slowly, peeking her head in slightly, “Is this still a good time?”

“Yes, of course,” Ichabod replied, making his way from the high backed easy chair to the door, opening it to allow Abbie to properly enter, “Good Evening, Miss Mills. How are you?” 

“I’ve been better. Been worse,” Abbie shrugged to remove her winter coat. Before she knew what was happening, he was behind her gently removing the heavy garment from her shoulders. “Um, thank you,” Abbie mumbled, turning her head slightly behind her.

Ichabod placed the coat on a hanger behind the door before turning to ask, “Do you prefer that we leave the door opened or closed?”

The way he asked the question let Abbie know he inquired purely for her comfort and he wouldn’t be insulted if she wanted it open.

“Closed is fine,” she replied moving into the cozy office, “You’re a Minister, so…”

“I’m also a man you don’t know and we’re alone in the building,” he countered, closing the door with a soft click. 

“True,” Abbie turned to observe him with a half-smile, “but you also come highly recommended by Frank Irving, not to mention that I probably know about five different ways to put you flat on your back if you decided to be stupid and try me.”

“Well…that’s comforting.” Ichabod chuckled slightly moving around Abbie to sit in his chair, picking up the book he’s been reading before retaking his seat. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Abbie had yet to sit on the small loveseat he kept for visitors. He reasoned she was still deciding whether she was going to stay. Before settling into his chair Ichabod remembered his manners, “I’m sorry Miss Mills. Would you like a cup of tea? I have hot water and an assortment of options,” he offered rising from the chair with the three long steps it took him to reach the electric kettle on the side table by his desk.

Abbie casually picked up a framed photograph of Ichabod and two women from one the many bookshelves in the room, the family resemblance obvious. “Your sisters?”

Ichabod turned to see what Abbie meant, “Oh yes, they are. Did you want a cup of tea,” he asked again, holding up the kettle.

Abbie’s somewhat disgusted grimace was all the answer he needed, “Not a fan of tea, I see.”

“Tea is just coffee with an inferiority complex,” Abbie deadpanned, drawing a laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Carrying a mug of fresh Earl Grey tea back to his chair, Ichabod sat down and started to read where he’d left off. The extent to which they talked, or didn’t, would be entirely up to Abbie.

Abbie observed the good Reverend from her periphery. When she’d peeked her head into the room, Abbie was sorely tempted to back right out, get in her car and drive home, sleep issues be damned. She would have doubted it was possible but the man looked even better than he had on Sunday. His wavy hair was mussed, probably from him running his fingers through it, making Abbie clench her fingers to keep from moving a stray curl off his forehead. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Not only was he not wearing a collar at all to remind her he was _strictly_ off limits, the thirst trap had the nerve, _the nerve,_ to have on a navy blue, thick cable knit sweater that perfectly complimented his eyes. _Ugh_ …and Abbie had not even allowed herself to think about the blue jeans he wore – relaxed but not baggy, nicely sculpting everything he was working with…every…thing.

 _Shit,_ Abbie grimaced, this was going to be more difficult than she realized. Maybe it was her lack of a decent sex life, but she could climb the good Reverend like a tree. “I’m going to Hell.”

Ichabod looked up from his book to where Abbie stood in front of the bookcase that was next to the loveseat, still holding the photograph she’d asked him about when she’d arrived, “Beg pardon, did you say something? 

“I’m…going to take a seat,” she covered. _Not even close to smooth,_ Abbie admitted to herself.

“By all means, Miss Mills. Please do,” Ichabod smiled benignly in reply.

Abbie sat up straight, facing Ichabod head on. He felt his heart start to race under her gaze, “Can you do me a favor?”

Ichabod closed the book, but used one of his fingers (long – Abbie didn’t fail to notice) to hold his place, “Yes, Miss Mills, what do you need?”

“ _That right there_ ,” she emphasized, “I need you to stop calling me ‘Miss Mills.’ It’s kind of driving me nuts.” 

“What shall I call you, then?”

“Abbbbieee,” Abbie replied, drawing out the obvious answer with a smile to soften her teasing.

Ichabod’s wide smile was accompanied by a perfectly timed lift of his eyebrow, “As you wish Abbbbieee and I am Ich-a-bod.”

“Uh no,” Abbie said quickly, “I am not calling you by your first name.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not right,” Abbie explained.

“Well if you are Abbie then I am Ichabod,” he countered as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

“Why?”

“Because to refer to you as Abbie and have you refer to me as ‘Reverend Crane’ makes it seem as if you are not my equal or worse yet, that you are a child. It takes no more than ten seconds in your presence to understand that you are more than my equal and certainly no child.” 

"You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Abbie asked with a sideways glance. 

“No, I am not, “ Ichabod answered plainly.

“Fine,” Abbie nodded, holding out her hand, “I’m Abbie Mills.” 

Ichabod reached across the small space and shook Abbie’s hand, his large hand and long fingers dwarfing hers, “And I am Ichabod Crane. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” Abbie replied with teasing formality before lifting the photograph to ask, “What are your sisters named?”

Ichabod pointed, “The one on the left is called Hester. The one on the right is called Pearl. Hester is the eldest. I am the middle and Pearl is the youngest.”

“So the three of you are Hester, Ichabod and Pearl?” Abbie asked, leaning back with a huff against the back of the loveseat, “Wow, I guess I shouldn’t feel bad about my name.”

“Abigail is a lovely name, “ Ichabod replied while acknowledging the truth of Abbie’s observation, “But yes, well…our parents showed no healthy concern for schoolyard bullies when they decided on what to call us.” 

“Abigail’s not all there is to it,” Abbie added with a wink, tilting her head to the side in question, “Did your parents have a thing for The Scarlet Letter?” 

Ichabod found himself surprised, but realized he shouldn’t have been. Abbie Mills was turning out to be far more intriguing than he’d anticipated, “Yes, it was my mother’s favorite book. She wanted her daughters to be the feminist icons in their own story.” 

“Was?” Abbie asked, her voice suddenly almost a whisper.

“Yes,” Ichabod shifted somewhat in the chair, “She died when I was nineteen…after a long fight against uterine cancer.”

“Ichabod, I’m sorry.” Abbie looked over at him and he knew she meant every word.

“Thank you, but it was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt,” Abbie answered, not letting him diminish the loss.

“No, it doesn’t…,” Ichabod coughed slightly, “But, I feel very fortunate to be her son and to have had her in my life for as long as I did.”

“I’m sure,” Abbie inclined her head slightly in agreement, loosening one of the curls at the base of her neck. Ichabod had to tear his eyes away from where it rested like a beacon against her skin, “So what made you decide to become a minister, “ Abbie inquired.

“Family business.”

“Your father is a minister?”

“Oh no, he’d set himself on fire before joining any type of clergy,” Ichabod laughed slightly as if remembering a private joke, “My mother was the minister. When she fell ill, I offered to do her visitations in the village – take baskets and such, sitting with people. I found that I liked it – being of service. It was a natural progression from there, I suppose.  Is being an officer of the law a call to service for you?” 

Abbie rested her head on the back of the loveseat, her neck elongated as she looked toward the ceiling thinking, “I never thought of it that way, but I guess it is…at least for me.  For some cops, maybe not as much.”

“It’s a difficult profession,” Ichabod acknowledged.

“Yeah, but worth it, “ Abbie stretched, reaching her arms up to the ceiling as a yawn overtook her. Ichabod watched as her turtle neck sweater was stretched over her torso with the movement – feeling vaguely warm. Abbie looked at her watch, surprised, “We’ve been talking for over an hour.”

“Yes.”

Abbie stood and walked to the door to put on her coat, “I need to go.  Long day tomorrow.”

Ichabod came behind Abbie to help with the coat, taking it from her and holding it open.  Abbie glanced behind her with a soft smile, “You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?”

“I try to be,” he replied sincerely.

Abbie opened the door wide and turned to face Ichabod chagrined to find herself standing inches away from the man gazing up into his eyes. _Damn._

“Thank you for letting me stop by tonight,” Abbie said quietly.

“Of course, anytime,” Ichabod’s tone matched Abbie’s  -   the air suddenly charged, “I know the world can seem like a dangerous place for you Abbie, but you’re safe here.  In this building. In this room. With me. _Safe_.”

Abbie held Ichabod’s gaze for few seconds that seemed like minutes, before saying by way of a good night, “See you next week.”


	5. Sex and the Single Minister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie has a unwelcome run-in with an ex-lover and she and Ichabod talk again. Thanks for all the great comments. I am happy folks seem to be into this story. I still have no idea where this is really going, but we'll get there together. Mistakes are my own. Thanks in advance for the kudos and comments.

Luke followed Abbie out of the police station as she walked to her car, determined to talk her into giving him another chance. He and Mills had dated for almost six months and Luke thought they were going somewhere. Ok, he’d cheated on her a couple of times with some college girls, but it didn’t mean anything, it was just sex. They could have something special if she’d only listen to him. Dinner. A cup of coffee. What could be the harm?

“Hey Abbie…Abbie, wait up!” Luke broke into an easy jog to catch Abbie before she got to her car. For such a short woman, she could walk pretty fast when she was in a hurry.

Abbie heard Luke call her name and kept walking. The only thing Luke Morales had going for him was a hot body and a cute face. Abbie was more than a little ashamed to admit she’d wasted six months of her life dating the moron.

“What is it Luke? Can this wait?” Abbie asked, turning around in the police station parking lot. Abbie was annoyed at being stopped and with a start, she realized just why. It was Thursday and she didn’t want to be late for her time with Ichabod, especially behind trifling ass Luke. Irving was right, she never should have agreed to date her fellow cop. Live and learn.

“Hey Abbie.” Luke said, coming to stand in front of her, “I thought we could get dinner…maybe a burger at that new joint downtown, have a couple of beers and then go back to my place,” Luke’s smile was confident and sexy. He knew what he had.

Abbie was neither impressed, nor interested, “Sorry Luke. I have plans,” and walked back towards her car.

“So break them.” Luke walked around Abbie, blocking her path. _Crap_ , Abbie realized she was going to be late if she stopped at home. She’d have to go straight to the church.

“No, I’m not breaking my plans for you,” Abbie stepped around Luke, striding with renewed purpose toward her car. It was cold out here and Luke Morales wasn’t worth the inconvenience of catching a chill… _not_ _like_ _Ichabod_ , Abbie’s brain supplied before she could stop the thought.

“What, is it a new guy?” He asked with a half sneer. Luke knew he was the best looking guy in the station. Maybe someone in town? But who?

“Look, I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t want to go out with you. It’s just that simple,” Abbie opened the door to her SUV and sat in the driver’s seat, Luke still standing there incredulous that Abbie hadn’t taken him up on his offer. He knew she _had_ to be horny. It’d been months.  

“Back up Morales. I have to go and I’m sure you don’t want to get your feet run over.”  Luke stepped back as Abbie started her SUV and drove out of the parking lot, barely tapping the brakes as she turned the corner towards the center of town.

Luke walked to the back entrance of the station to find Frank Irving standing there, his arms crossed. Luke really disliked the older man. Irving always looked at Luke like he was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. But, the asshole was good friends with Abbie. Maybe he could get some information. 

“Struck out again Morales,” Irving observed.

“Yeah,” Luke pretended to just _happen_ to ask, “Say, you don’t know if Mills is dating again, do you? She seemed hellbent on leaving. Said she had plans.”

Frank Irving knew _exactly_ where Abbie was going and had his suspicions about why she was in such a hurry to get there, but it’d be a cold day in Hell before this shit for brains would get that information out of Frank Irving. Far better men than Luke Morales had tried and failed, “Nope. No idea,” Frank shrugged without a care in the world.

“Well, I’m sure I can win her back,” Luke said with complete confidence. _Bless_ _his_ _heart_ , Irving inwardly cackled.

Frank left Luke where he stood. It was time to go home to Cynthia and Macey. Irving hummed a familiar melody as he walked, singing the catchy lyrics in his head, “I don’t want no scrub. A scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me….”

Abbie took a steadying breath as she stood outside Ichabod’s office door before knocking softly. It had been a full week since she’s seen him. Abbie didn’t want to admit how much she’d missed talking to him. Her only ask... _please, Sweet Baby Jesus, don’t let this man of God look as good as he did last week. A woman can only take so much._

“Come in, Abbie,” came his reply.

Abbie opened the door to see Ichabod standing by his easy chair, book in hand. The first thing Abbie noticed was Sweet Baby Jesus had let her down. Who knew he would look so good in red?! And were those chest hairs peaking out the top of his button down shirt? Abbie mentally face palmed herself. _Really, Sweet Baby Jesus? That’s not playing fair,_ Abbie thought, more than a little irritated with her how much she itched to feel if those hairs were as soft as they looked. _Fuck._

The second thing Abbie noticed was the smell of coffee. Her elixir of life. Abbie knew it was a testament to how good looking Ichabod was that the coffee was the _second_ thing she noticed. Under almost all other circumstances, the black gold came out far ahead of men.

“Is that coffee?” Abbie asked, surprised, as Ichabod helped Abbie take off her winter coat, hanging it behind his office door.  

Ichabod, blushed slightly in response, the color enhanced by his shirt. Abbie was going to have words with Sweet Baby Jesus when she got home. He was _really_ letting her down. 

“Yes, well...,” he started, walking over to the side table where next to the kettle, he’d placed a small capacity coffee maker, Abbie following on his heels, “seeing as how you clearly detest the national beverage of my country of origin, I thought you might appreciate a cup of fresh coffee after your long day.”

“Ichabod…” Abbie smiled up at him, touched, “Thank you, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I wanted to. It’s nothing. A twenty dollar investment to see you happy. More than worth it.” Ichabod replied casually, his surprisingly broad back partially facing Abbie as he poured the coffee into a mug and handed it to her, stepping aside so she could sweeten the drink as she pleased. The space was tight and his body brushed lightly against her chest as he moved past her. Abbie inwardly groaned and hoped Ichabod hadn’t noticed that her nipples tightened at the slight contact.

Abbie would be as dismayed to know Ichabod _had_ noticed, her thin crew neck sweater and silk bra no match for her luscious, beautifully formed, womanly curves. But Ichabod had bigger problems…the blush wasn’t the only thing rising and the last thing he wanted was to make Abbie uncomfortable in any way. His body’s reaction to her was his problem alone, Ichabod reminded himself, sitting down and taking his book in hand, thankful for the cover, as it were.

Abbie sat down gratefully on the loveseat with her coffee, adjusting to accommodate the service weapon still holstered to her hip. Ichabod observed it quietly, drawing Abbie’s attention.  “I’m sorry. I planned to stop home and put it in my safe like I did last week, but I was held up and obviously I couldn’t leave it in my car,” Abbie apologized. The idea of bringing a gun into a church didn’t sit well with her either, so Abbie imagined it made Ichabod very uncomfortable.

“No…no,” he replied thoughtfully, taking a breath and releasing it, “It’s alright. I will admit I never thought I’d see a firearm in my office, but it’s fine. This is a part of how you serve.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Abbie smiled gratefully, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Ichabod replied with a quick nod of acknowledgment before asking, “What held you up?”

“Not what. Who,” Abbie replied, taking a sip of her coffee and nodding her pleasure at the taste, “Morales.”

“Morales? And what did Mr…Ms…Morales need that delayed your departure from the station?”

“ _Mr._ Morales. He wanted a booty call,” Abbie answered baldly, still in the happy haze of her (really good) coffee when it dawned on her what she’d just said to the _good Reverend_.  “Oh my God, that was totally out of line!”

Ichabod was quite pleased with himself. His expression didn’t change upon hearing Abbie’s explanation, although he’d had a sudden urge to find this Mr. Morales and… _and do what, Ichabod?_ He asked himself. Abbie was an adult and if she wanted a _booty_ _call_ with this…Mr. Morales…she was entitled to do as she pleased, even if the very thought of it made him more than slightly sick to his stomach.

His smile was reassuring, “So why are you here? You certainly could have cancelled if you preferred Mr. Morales’ company to mine this evening.” Yes, Ichabod was _quite_ proud of himself. 

Abbie shook her head in disbelief. Not even on Luke’s _best_ day, “Not a fair fight. We just broke up not too long ago. I’m not looking to go back.”

“Why did you break up?” Ichabod chastised himself for the surge of elation he felt.

Abbie took another sip of the coffee, thinking she might get a second cup, _damn he made good coffee._  “Because he was a trifling cheater and a moron to boot,” Abbie paused to stage whisper, one side of her mouth lifted, “He’s not that bright.”

Ichabod laughed despite his better angels, “So what was the initial attraction?”

“He’s pretty and I like sex,” she replied with a careless shrug.

Abbie was too hyped up on coffee and comfort to filter her words. Besides, would it kill him to help her out and wear his collar? Sheesh!

Ichabod’s head bobbed slightly in acknowledgement of Abbie’s logic, “Most people do like sex.”

“Including you?” Abbie asked before she thought better of it. She knew it was out of line, but she really wanted to know.

“Oh yes. With the right person.”

“Well Luke was definitely not the right person,” Abbie continued matter of factly, “One reason he probably can’t spell clitoris is because he’s never actually found one.”

The air was still for a beat before Ichabod burst out laughing, his head thrown back as he barked out,“I’m…I’m...I'm sorry for laughing,” Ichabod tried to get the words out in between holding his belly and looking at Abbie. His unrestrained laughter sent Abbie over the edge and she burst out in giggles for the first time in, well, a long time.

“Abbie…,” Ichabod wiped away a tear before falling into another round of laughter.

Abbie also couldn’t stop giggling, “It’s true though,” she asserted, the laughter finally dying down between them, “The sex was _so_ bad. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had decent sex, forget really good sex?”

“Probably about as long as it’s been since I’ve had any,” Ichabod answered, with a self-deprecating smile.

Abbie smiled back, tucking away that bit of salient information with a quirk of her eyebrow, “Why are men so bad at sex…and before you answer that, if you ‘not all men’ me, I’ll throw something at you.”

"I wouldn't presume to speak for all men anyway, nor to defend them,” Ichabod replied. “But, in my couple’s counseling sessions as a minister, I think the most common source of female dissatisfaction with sex is men who don’t know the difference between anatomy and discovery.”

“Ok,” Abbie got up from the loveseat, walking past where Ichabod sat to get her second cup of coffee. She also, as it happened, gave Ichabod a perfect view of her absolutely stunning bum. He stifled the groan that almost…almost escaped, “what does that mean?”

He waited until Abbie settled in on the loveseat again with her coffee before explaining, “Take you for example,” Ichabod leaned forward in the chair, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves almost to the elbow. Abbie had to swallow at the skin, arm hair and corded muscle revealed…it was the sexiest thing she’d seen in years. _Sweet Baby Jesus was getting a spanking,_ Abbie sighed to herself.

“What about me?”

“Clearly you have all the relevant parts as any other women. Clearly,” Ichabod coughed softly, “But that is just anatomy. If I were your…well…your’s, I would want to discover _you_. All of you.”

Abbie watched as Ichabod lifted his right hand in a pantomime of touching her hair, “That curl resting against your neck…would a kiss there make your knees go weak? Are you ticklish in the places people expect or only where I would know about after hours of making love to you? And I suspect a good deal of Mr. Morales’ lack of clit appreciation is also linked to a lack of interest in discovery…yes, your clitoris is in the same place as other women,” Ichabod continued matter-of-factly, “But do you like fingers, lips or just tongue? How much and for how long? Discovery can take days, Abbie and if you’re lucky enough to find the right person, the rest of your life,” Ichabod leaned back in his chair and Abbie realized she needed to do the same. She had literally leaned forward so much as he was speaking that she could reach out and touch the man.  She was also so turned on she was going to choke the _shit_ out of Sweet Baby Jesus when she got home.

“To me the beauty of sex, the gift of it really, is the discovery of all the things that bring your partner the most happiness. The most bliss.  It’s communion in the best sense of the word.  That is what I hope for you Abbie, as it is what I believe you deserve.” Ichabod finished speaking, unconsciously rubbing the goosebumps that had sprung up on his arms.

Abbie swallowed. Hard. "Thank you,” she croaked, trying again, “Thank you…um...I’m going to get out of your way. It’s late.”

“Yes, of course, I've kept you too long,” Ichabod responded, getting up from the chair to retrieve Abbie’s coat, waiting as she put her arms through. He rested his hands on her shoulders for a beat, “Five years.”

Abbie turned her head towards him, “What?”

“The answer to the question you didn’t ask,” Ichabod stepped away, opened the door and watched Abbie step through, “It’s been five years.”

Abbie’s forehead crunched up, signaling her confusion, “Why?”

“Because the right person is worth the wait,” Ichabod answered simply, “Goodnight Abbie…see you next week.”


	6. Reverend Thirst Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod has a telling conversation with Reyes and Frank forces Abbie's hand about her growing feelings for Crane. 
> 
> Comments are fuel (they really are and thank you so much for every single one of you riding the bus to hell with me and this story:-).
> 
> Mistakes as always are completely on me. Thanks for reading! Enjoy.

Ichabod was working on this week’s sermon when he heard the knock on the doorframe, “Hello Leena,” he answered smiling, “How was you trip?”

Reverend Leena Reyes has been away for the last seven days on her annual interfaith religious retreat to a Buddhist monastery in West Virginia. Snow covered paths, Noble Silence and building a national interfaith community of understanding…it was a highlight of her year. “Great,” Leena answered moving into the room as Ichabod came from around his desk to sit in his easy chair across from where Leena sat on the loveseat…noticing what was different from her last visit to Ichabod’s office.

With a small smirk, Leena inclined her head, “A coffee maker?” 

“Yes, well, I have a visitor who likes coffee,” Ichabod answered nonchalantly. He hoped.

Leena observed the younger man. Crane had worked under her for the last three years, having transferred from a much smaller congregation in rural Vermont. Crane had loved that community but was looking for a change…a different way to serve. Leena liked him – he was kind, dedicated, responsible and popular with the congregation for all the right reasons. Leena felt good leaving the church in Crane’s hands. He would do a good job both as a religious leader and as an administrator. There was just one thing…

“Ichabod,” Leena observed, “you’ve had numerous people visit you over the years who would have preferred coffee over the tea you served them.”

“Yes,” Ichabod’s tone was determinedly neutral. _Oh boy, it’s worse than I thought,_ Leena realized silently.

“So what's changed?” Leena Reyes’ specialty was asking questions she already had the answer to…as Ichabod well knew.

“Abbie loves coffee,” he answered simply. He and Leena didn’t lie to each other. They couldn’t serve their faith and community otherwise.

“Abbie?” Leena asked, the quirk of her eyebrow telegraphing just the _slightest_ censure.

“Miss Mills,” Ichabod corrected himself.

“I know who she is,” Leena responded, the ‘to you’ left unsaid as she waited a beat before continuing, “But that’s not why I stopped by, although it might make some things clear for you.”

“Leena…” Ichabod was perplexed.

“I just got off the phone. Since I’m a month out from the start of my sabbatical, the church leadership wants to talk to you about your administrative plan.” 

“In other words, they want to get a final good look at me before they hand over this church,” Ichabod said drily.

“You could say that,” Leena smiled in response. “I have every confidence in you Ichabod. You’ll be fine.”

“Thank you Leena,” Ichabod was going to miss his boss, mentor and friend. But she was right. He was ready.

“Oh and one more thing,” Leena said, watching Ichabod closely, “It’s a two day trip. Thursday overnight into Friday.”

Leena saw Ichabod’s eyes immediately dart towards the coffee maker behind him, confirming her strong suspicions, “Ichabod, my friend…and I mean that sincerely,” she smiled slightly to soften the blow. Reyes really did want the best for him, “you can counsel Abbie as the Reverend Crane or you can court her as the man Ichabod. What you can’t do is intend to do the former while _actually_ doing the latter. That’s not being honest with yourself and it’s not fair to either of you.”

Before Ichabod could recover his senses enough to protest Reyes’ bald assessment of his situation, Leena stood, stopping by the door on her way out, “I’ll see you when you get back from Boston. Good luck, not that you’ll need it.”

Abbie was walking back from lunch, Frank by her side, when she felt her cell phone vibrate. Taking the phone out and seeing who it was, Abbie quickly answered, “Hey Ichabod, what’s going on?” Frank didn’t miss the smile that lit up Abbie’s face.

“Oh…well that’s ok. I understand. You’ll be away,” Abbie moved the phone to her other ear, turning her back to Frank, “Really, don’t worry about it. I’ll…I’ll just see you next Thursday. Yeah, I know. Me too. Bye Ichabod.”

“What’s the matter Mills,” Frank asked.

“Nothing,” Abbie shrugged, looking smaller to Frank’s eyes since taking the phone call, “Ichabod has to go to Boston for a meeting. He’ll miss Thursday. Let’s go back in. It’s not a big deal.”

Frank reached for Abbie’s arm, stopping her from walking away, “So why do you look like somebody kicked your puppy?”

“I don’t have a puppy, Frank.”

“Mills…”

Abbie sighed in defeat. Frank Irving didn’t know when to quit. He’d have her out here all night until he got his answer, “I’ve been sleeping better since I started talking to him, ok? And I was really looking forward to a good six hours on Thursday. Happy?” Abbie asked, frustration coloring her tone. She was tired of everyone wanting her to _share_ what she was feeling instead of just letting her _be_ , like Ichabod did.

Irving pursed his lips together, actually glad that Abbie was frustrated…at least she wasn’t pretending that everything was just “fine” like she had before. Progress. He’d take it.

“I’m happy talking to the good Reverend is working out for you Abbie. I really am…”

Abbie gave him a suspicious side eye, “But.”

“But, I think missing some sleep isn't the only thing pissing you off, Mills,” he said with a knowing look.

Abbie straightened to her full height and if Frank didn’t want to get his ass kicked, he would have laughed at the attempted intimidation. Mills was small, but mighty. “I _told_ you I don’t want to date Ichabod. He’s not for me.”

“Yeah, that’s what you _said_ , so why is he ‘Rev. Thirst Trap’ in your phone?”

“Because…because,” _sh_ _it Mills, come up with something,_ Abbie berated herself, throwing up her hands, “Because he’s all… _call me Ichabod_ …and _I got a coffee maker just for you_ …and I have the _sexiest forearms_ in the history of mankind…oh and I’ve been _celibate_ for years, but I _guarantee_ you I know where a clit is! Have a great night. See you next week,” Abbie paused, waving in mock imitation of Ichabod, before pointing one dainty finger angrily at Frank Irving, “That man _is_ a thirst trap and he needs to be goddamned ashamed of himself.”

“Maybe, but you’re sleeping better,” Frank deadpanned.

“Fuck you,” Abbie replied with a chuckle, shaking her head.

Frank smiled back, the tension between the long-time friends broken, “All I’m saying is if he has you this sprung _and_ you’re sleeping better, seems like that’s worth thinking about.”

“I have thought about it,” Abbie conceded with resignation.

“And…”

“He’s a minister.”

“So what? He’s not a priest,” Frank countered, knowing he wasn’t telling Mills anything new.

Abbie looked up to the sky, squinting at the sunny February day. It was beautiful and not as cold and dreary as before. Maybe Spring was coming after all, “He’s celibate, Frank.” 

“If so, it’s by choice. Shit, I know at least three women who’d have his babies _today.”_

 _“_ Is Cynthia one of them?” Abbie teased as they turned to walk back, swallowing her jealousy. _What women?_

“Mills, I learned a long time ago not to ask my wife any question I didn’t want the answer to…and this falls firmly in that category.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But you’re going to tell me about you and the good Reverend’s ‘clit conversation’ some day because _that_ sounds like one for the history books.”

Abbie laughed her reply, opening the door to the station, “No way in Hell…”


	7. A Price Far Above Rubies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie gets some disturbing news about Ichabod and Ichabod comes to a decision (he thinks - as if) about the nature of his relationship with Abbie.

Abbie stood in front of the prepared meals case of the supermarket, having worked extra late trying to tire herself out. It was almost ten in the evening and Abbie wasn’t even drowsy. She sighed out loud, “Maybe the lasagna?”

“Hey Miss Thing!” Abbie turned at the sound of the familiar voice. 

“Cynthia!” Abbie beamed at the older woman, “How are you? It’s been too long.” Cynthia Irving was a high-powered defense attorney who somehow found herself married to a cantankerous, dedicated cop for the last twenty years. They went through it badly when Macey was injured and Cynthia honestly thought they weren’t going to make it, even going so far as to see a divorce attorney for a consultation. But Cynthia truly believed that God had put Ichabod Crane in her husband’s path to help save her family. Two years later and they couldn’t be happier.

“I’m doing well, all things considered,” Cynthia answered, “Hey listen, I hope you don’t mind, but Frank told me you’re visiting with Reverend Crane.” 

“I am,” Abbie said, her suspicion clear.

“No…no, it’s nothing bad,” Cynthia quickly reassured Abbie, “I just wanted to say that he really helped our family and I hope he gets the chance to help you.”

Abbie’s cop instincts went on high alert, the lasagna forgotten, “What do you mean you _hope_ he gets the chance?” Abbie pressed, “Why wouldn’t he?”

“His trip to Boston.”

“What about it?” Abbie asked, fighting rising concern. _Was something wrong with Ichabod? Was he sick or something?_

“It’s his final review with the national church leadership before Reverend Reyes leaves us,” Cynthia explained.

Abbie still didn’t get it. What the hell was going on with Ichabod? “I don’t understand,” Abbie said, crossing her arms, “Start at the beginning.”

Cynthia looked concerned, “I’m sorry. I thought Reverend Crane would have told you. Reverend Reyes is leaving on an extended sabbatical, probably a couple of years at least. The Sleepy Hollow UU needs a head minister. I’m on the church board and we all voted to elevate Crane when Reyes leaves –“

“So what’s the problem?” Abbie asked, willing Cynthia to get to the point.

“The problem is his appointment still needs approval from the national leadership.”

“Could they reject him? He’s your choice, right?”

“It would be very unusual, but it could certainly happen. Our congregation is important, serving all of Westchester County and even attracting people from Upper Manhattan. They want to be sure Reverend Crane is the right person.”

“And what if they decide he’s not,” Abbie asked, straight to the point.

“Well, he could stay on,” Cynthia speculated, “But I think it would be hard. There are UU churches all over the world. There’s always an opening. So, I suppose he would leave,” Cynthia continued, “I mean he could go anywhere…”

Abbie looked at her watch, _damn,_ too late to call him. But not too late to figure out how she was going to _kick his fine ass_ for not telling her he could leave at any time.

“Cynthia, hon, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Can we talk later? I know I owe you a lunch.”

“Sure,” Cynthia replied to Abbie’s retreating back, her legs already carrying her half way down the food aisle she walked so fast. Cynthia took out her phone to make a quick, but important call.

“I found her just where you said she’d be… _yes_ freaked _all the way out_ at the news, although she tried to hide it… _yes_ , just like you said she would… _yes_ , you were right and I was wrong…don’t get excited though, you were due, it’s been a good fifteen years since the last time,” Cynthia laughed softly, “On my way home now... _Yes, I’ll drive safe…_ Love you too. Bye.”

Abbie drove home, washed her face, changed into night clothes, tied up her hair, put her phone on the charger that lived on her nightstand and climbed into bed largely on autopilot, alternating between seething and worried.

_He could really leave. Does he want to leave? Of course he doesn’t. He said he likes the work. He’d miss Sleepy Hollow and…Shit, so what if he leaves. Everybody fucking leaves anyway. I survived Dad leaving – that asshole - and my ungrateful sister hightailed it out of town with Grade A dipshit Hawley as soon as she was legal. So what if he leaves…I’ll live. I always do...but what if he leaves…and why didn’t he tell me?_

Abbie woke with a start and before she could think better of it, grabbed her phone, hit recents and dialed. She placed the phone propped up on her other pillow as she lay on her side.

“Abbie, is that you?” a groggy Ichabod faced Abbie on the screen, her own groggy face in the corner, “Dammit, I meant to call, not FaceTime,” Abbie exclaimed, sitting up in bed and grabbing the phone, “What time is it?”

“About one AM, give or take,” Ichabod answered, more awake now, sitting up as well. Abbie saw his bare chest illuminated by his phone and embarrassingly felt _everything_ in her core clinch. How could such a tall, lanky man have so much muscle definition? He was the gift that just kept on giving.

 _This has to be God’s revenge for the whole Sweet Baby Jesus thing or maybe_ _I’m just really shitty at not wanting to ride the good Reverend. Probably both,_ Abbie thought.

“Forget I called,” Abbie said, “This is ridiculous.”

“No, don’t hang up. You obviously had a reason for reaching out. Let’s talk. I’m here.”

“Yeah, but for how long,” Abbie almost sneered.

“As long as you need me.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Abbie,” Ichabod replied softly. Something was bothering his friend and despite Ichabod being very much aware that Abbie wore a sleep tank to bed that perfectly framed her upper body and made him thankful for the cover over his painfully erect self, he was determined to be her _friend_...first and foremost.

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“About the real reason for your trip to Boston? That if you didn’t get the job you would leave?”

Ichabod sighed, running his fingers through his short, wavy hair, “I’m sorry I upset you. It didn’t occur to me to tell you because well, I would’ve had to royally muck up the meetings today to be rejected. It was more a formality than anything, although I did take it very seriously.”

Abbie laid back down in bed, holding the phone above her as she snuggled under the covers, “So you’re not leaving?” Abbie semi-whispered, more relieved than she would ever admit.

“No Abbie, I’m not leaving,” Ichabod’s voice softened, “and even if I, for whatever reason, hadn’t received the position, I still wouldn’t leave Sleepy Hollow…not right away, if ever. I have a life here now and too many very good reasons to stay.”

“Ok,” Abbie placed her phone back on the pillow, turning to face Ichabod as he still sat up in bed. Both were in the dark. It was late and even though Abbie couldn’t put her finger on what it was, she knew something was different between them tonight. More serious. Scarier but also…peaceful.

“How was your day?” Ichabod asked, moving the hotel pillows so he could semi-recline, holding the phone in front of him.

“Annoying,” Abbie answered, “I’m buried in busy work while I wait to get cleared to return to full duty. I want to do my _job_.”

“What is the issue?”

“The department shrink wants me to talk some more about the kid I killed, as if I _don’t_ think about that every day.”

“I see. You mean the person you shot in self-defense who died as a result of his injuries?” Ichabod said with gentle reframing, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I know we have to at some point, but…not yet.” Abbie answered in near silence as she looked at him, thinking, “So what are you reading?”

“Beg pardon?” Ichabod asked, surprised by the pivot in the conversation.

“What are you reading?” Abbie repeated, further explaining around a yawn, “Every time I see you, you have a book in your hand. Every time. I think if I saw you without a book, it would be weird.” Abbie teased as she snuggled even further into the covers, her eyes starting to close.

He smiled slightly at the observation. She wasn’t wrong. Ichabod Crane carried a book with him everywhere, “Sonnets. Tonight, it was sonnets.”

“Read one to me,” Abbie requested drowsily, “Maybe I can _finally_ get some sleep.”

“As you wish,” Ichabod answered, turning on the bedside light and opening the book to where he'd placed the mark before going to bed. 

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep,  
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,  
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look  
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;”

“Yeats,” Abbie identified – almost asleep, “Keep going. I like this one.”  
  
“How many loved your moments of glad grace,  
And loved your beauty with love false or true,  
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,  
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;”  
  
Ichabod paused and saw Abbie on his phone, her beautiful face serene in sleep, with a hint of a smile. He watched her breathing for a few blissful seconds, smiled back and disconnected the line.

“Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.” Ichabod whispered to God in his silent hotel room. As a man of faith, he knew he would have to draw on it more than ever to be the friend Abbie needed...despite his own now undeniable feelings, “Sweet dreams, my Treasure. I’m not leaving you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When You Are Old  
> by William Butler Yeats
> 
> When you are old and grey and full of sleep,  
> And nodding by the fire, take down this book,  
> And slowly read, and dream of the soft look  
> Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
> 
> How many loved your moments of glad grace,  
> And loved your beauty with love false or true,  
> But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,  
> And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
> 
> And bending down beside the glowing bars,  
> Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled  
> And paced upon the mountains overhead  
> And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
> 
> Proverbs 31:10 Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.


	8. Love and Basketball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crane has a favor to ask of Abbie and ichabbie is still sailing on the river denial.
> 
> Thanks you so much for every single comment so far on this fic. I really appreciate them, especially the questions. Thanks you.
> 
> Mistakes are my own as always. Enjoy!

“I’m looking for Abbie Mills,” Abbie heard the clipped British accent and immediately raised her head from the files she was working on.

“Ichabod?” Abbie watched as Ruby, the desk officer, waved Ichabod through, pointing in Abbie’s general direction.

He wore a long winter coat that somehow managed to be both appropriate and sexy. _How does he do that? Nevermind_ , Abbie dismissed the thought, standing as he approached.

“What are you doing here,” Abbie asked without even the courtesy of a greeting. Seeing Ichabod Crane, _her_ Ichabod, in the police station was disconcerting. For Abbie, there were places where Ichabod belonged and this was not one of them. Clearly, he had other ideas. The only good thing…Abbie could just see his collar inside the open buttons of his coat. _About time Sweet Baby Jesus came through._

“I thought we might have lunch and talk,” he answered pleasantly, “I have a favor to ask you.”

“A favor?” Abbie tilted her head.

“Yes, a favor,” he teased, “It’s the least you can do for FaceTiming me at one o’clock in the morning last night.”

“Oh, that’s a low blow Reverend Crane,” Abbie laughed. This man was a mess!

“But effective, yes?”

“Yes,” Abbie smirked, having slept better last night than she had in months, “Let me get my coat.”

Abbie left Ichabod standing by her desk and he looked around the station while he waited. In the three years he’d lived and worked in Sleepy Hollow, this was the first time he’d had cause to visit. It was pleasant enough – perhaps a little drafty, but the officers seemed committed to thorough police work, if the eyes boldly examining him were any indication. Abbie was one of _them_ and they watched out for her. It somehow made Ichabod feel better to realize this.

“So, how do you know Abbie?”

Ichabod turned to see a shorter man with an olive complexion, brown eyes and hair. He was very handsome, as well as fit and appeared to be Latino.

“Ah,” Ichabod put out his hand in greeting, “you must be Mr. Morales.”

“That’s right,” Luke answered, warily shaking Ichabod’s hand, “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I did not,” Ichabod turned to see Abbie arrive back with her coat. She briefly nodded to Luke and without thinking, handed over the coat and turned her back to Ichabod, waiting for him to hold it open for her, while she put her arms through the sleeves. _No use pretending he wasn’t going to help her with it like always..._

“Shall we go, Abbie?”

“Yeah, the Sleepy Hollow Diner, Ok?”

“Splendid,” Ichabod turned to Luke before following behind Abbie, “It was a pleasure to finally put a face with the name, Mr. Morales. Goodbye. 

“I’ll drive,” Abbie commented, leading them to her car. 

“Good, I walked here.”

Abbie turned her head in surprise, “From the church? That’s a good five miles!”

“No, no,” Ichabod corrected, “From my apartment. It’s only about a mile from here. I live on the second floor of a converted house.”

Abbie chuckled, unlocked the car doors and climbed into the driver’s seat, “I guess I never really gave much thought to where you live. I assumed you lived at the church.”

“What, like a merchant above his store?” Ichabod asked, climbing in on the passenger side with a smile.

Abbie smiled back briefly as she started to drive out of the station parking lot, “Something like that…”

“Well, I live in a perfectly normal two-bedroom apartment with far more books than I should be allowed and a particularly possessive cat I call Rufus.”

“You have a cat,” Abbie had to laugh out loud. The image of Ichabod sitting in his easy chair, a cat purring on his lap while he read a book of sonnets, was too sexy for words. _Damn thirst trap just keeps on trapping_ , “How did that happen?”

“It wasn’t long after I arrived in Sleepy Hollow,” Ichabod paused with an answering smile, “I was coming home with groceries and heard this pitiful wail coming from the side of the house. There was Rufus, so tiny and shivering. Clearly hungry. It was bitterly cold that winter and I knew the creature wouldn’t survive the night. So I brought her inside, fed her and she simply never left,” Ichabod declared, hands moving in emphasis, “Rufus is a white and cream calico who firmly believes that she owns me, not the other way around.”

“Wait, so how did a girl cat end up being named Rufus,” Abbie asked, pulling into the parking lot of the diner.

“I needed something to call it and Rufus is the name of a professor I liked at University. But it was a week before I bothered to check the cat’s – underside – as it were and by that time the name had stuck,” he shrugged by way of explanation.

“Ok, that’s aggressively cute. I hope I get to meet Rufus some day,” Abbie said getting out of the car and closing the door behind her.

“I hope you do as well, Treasure,” Ichabod answered as he sat in the car alone. He took a deep breath to gather his resolve, opened the door and followed Abbie to the diner’s entrance where she waited for him.

Abbie and Ichabod were seated in a booth and gave their orders: a hamburger and fries for Ichabod and a turkey burger with a side salad for Abbie.

Abbie observed Ichabod sitting across from her. He wore a dark blue shirt that made the white of his collar stand out even more and much to Abbie’s continued frustration, did not do _one damn thing_ to dampen his looks.  Hell, that collar was even starting to show up in her Reverend Thirst Trap late night fantasies. “I’m _so_ going to Hell,” Abbie said to herself.

“Why?” Ichabod asked, confused but interested.

“Never mind,” Abbie deflected, “What’s the favor?”

“Before we get to that,” Ichabod countered, “What does the G stand for?”

“The G?”

“Your desk plate at the station said G. Abigail Mills,” he clarified, “what does the G stand for?”

“Oh,” Abbie exclaimed lightly, a touch embarrassed for reasons that she couldn’t quite explain, even to herself, “Grace.  My first name is Grace.”

 _Grace, of course your first name is Grace,_ Ichabod thought. If he could have put his face in his hands with a groan without looking like a complete lunatic, Ichabod would have done it.  _Grace._ God really does have a sense of humor.

“Grace Abigail Mills,” Ichabod said her name like it was a prayer.  Abbie shivered from the feeling it gave her. Goosebumps. _Shake it off, Mills. Reverend Thirst Trap, remember?_

“But no one’s ever called me Grace. It’s a formality.”

“Oh, I think it is far more than that…” Ichabod replied, holding Abbie’s gaze, the contact only broken by the arrival of their meals. _Friends,_ Ichabod reminded himself. “But, back to the favor, of course. I have been asked to coach a girls’ basketball team.  I was able to read up on basketball and watch some videos, but it’s not something I’m familiar with really.  I didn’t grow up playing it in England and I’m probably not going to be a very good coach.”

“So, why’d you agree to do it,” Abbie asked, taking a bite of her turkey burger.

“Because they needed someone,” Ichabod replied, “These girls…well, they are foster kids, some are even members of our congregation. We encourage our parents to take in foster kids with the hope that some will adopt the children that others unfortunately overlook. A team was created just for them so they don’t have to answer awkward questions about their parents or home situations.  We are also working on building their self-confidence. Some of the girls are so down on themselves – it breaks the heart.”

“You know I was in the system, right? Until I got out?” Abbie side-eyed the good Reverend.

“I am aware,” Ichabod answered with some caution, not wanted to make Abbie angry or upset, “But I also know that you were the point guard for the Cross-Westchester championship basketball team when you were in high school.”

“I’m going to beat Frank’s ass,” Abbie mumbled under her breath. There was nowhere else Ichabod could have gotten that information. Abbie still played the occasional pickup game with other cops, surprising the often bigger and taller men with her agility, ball handling and damn near lethal outside three-point shot.

“How old are the girls?”

“Between fourteen and sixteen,” Ichabod supplied, watching Abbie roll her neck at the news to relieve the instant tension, “They don’t need me Abbie. _They need you_. Will you help me? It would only be for the next six Saturdays. There will be a couple of games, but the league is small, so the competition is limited.”

Abbie sighed and asked with an inquiring tilt of her head, “Did you wear your collar so I would have a harder time turning you down?”

“No, absolutely not,” Ichabod was slightly offended at being accused of trying to manipulate Abbie into helping him coach the team, “I wore my collar so that you wouldn’t be subject to any speculation about the nature of our relationship.  I am simply a minister who has asked for your help.  That is all.”

“With the way you look?” Abbie judged the likelihood of Ichabod’s plan succeeding, “Nobody’s believing that...collar or no collar. But I appreciate you trying. I really do.” Ichabod decided to ignore Abbie’s comment about his looks – sure that she was objectively evaluating him, not signaling any real interest, much to his great disappointment if he were honest with himself.

“So, will you help me with the girls? And we can continue our Thursday talks if you like, of course.”

“Ok,” Abbie took a deep breath and released it, “Yes, I’ll help you with the girls, Ichabod. Who knows, maybe it will be fun.”

“I hope so,” he answered with a smile, “Now, shall I just give you my fries and call it even or would you prefer to just keep stealing them one at a time?”

Abbie looked down at the table to see she was literally eating the fries off Ichabod’s plate without realizing it, “I’m so sorry! I guess I just got too comfortable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I only do that to Frank.”

“Abbie,” Ichabod put his hand over Abbie where it rested on the table, “Stop. I was just teasing. I’m happy you feel comfortable enough with me to steal my fries. Really.”

Ichabod saw Abbie glance down to where his hand completely covered hers and then back up at him. Her expression was open and trusting with a vulnerability Ichabod had never seen from her.  He was determined to honor the gift of seeing Abbie like this. _She is worth a price far above rubies._

“Really Abbie, take the fries,” he said, slowly but deliberately removing his hand.

Abbie shook her head in an effort to clear it.  _What the fuck just happened?  All he did was touch my hand…get a grip, Mills._

“Ok, I’ll eat your fries if you tell me one thing.” Abbie leaned back against the booth cushion.

“Yes.”

“What did you think of Luke,” Abbie’s asked, her eyes sparkling with her teasing.  She was dying to know how Ichabod was going to get around not completely shading her ex-boyfriend, being the good Reverend and all.

Ichabod took a sip of his tea, looking at Abbie over the rim, “He was everything I expected him to be…only shorter.”


	9. Rufus Does Ichabod A Solid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod and Abbie start coaching the basketball team and Abbie meets Rufus - with unexpected results. I wrote this update on a plane and edited it on a train. So believe when I say comments are fuel and especially with this update, mistakes are all on me.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

Within the first five minutes of meeting the girls and their foster families, Abbie knew she would love coaching the girls’ basketball team and three minutes after that, Ichabod knew he’d love watching her do it.

He’d happily stepped back into the assistant coach position, doing…well…basically whatever Abbie told him to do.

The first Saturday practice, Abbie had the girls – there were six of them – play a three on three pick up game. She wanted to see their natural strengths and weaknesses. She and Ichabod sat on the bench at a local elementary school gym watching. Abbie didn’t want to know which gray-haired school administrator Ichabod charmed to get the practice space, but she was happy to deploy his thirst trap ways for the good of these girls.

“I think Ashley is tall enough to be a forward,” Abbie leaned over to Ichabod, her sweatshirt clad shoulder lightly touching his, “And Tia has point guard written all over her, look at that ball handling. Girl’s got skills.”

Ichabod took notes so he and Abbie would not miss anything in their coaching duties, “I completely agree.”

Abbie fanned herself and then removed her sweatshirt, revealing the curves hugging spandex tank top underneath, looking over at Ichabod with a knowing smile, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a bit,” he admitted without shame. He knew when he was out of his depths. That’s one reason Abbie was here.

Abbie put her hand on his knee, patting it affectionately, “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”

Ichabod felt the pressure of her hand on him like a match to kindling, his body coming alive.

To make matters worse, Abbie suddenly stood, her tight yoga pants clad bum right in Ichabod’s face, “Nice hustle Sarah. Way to rebound!” Abbie clapped, sitting back down, looking over at her partner-in-crime, “You ok, Ichabod? You look a little red-faced.”

“F-Fine,”he managed to stutter out. If only Abbie knew what she did to him, she’d probably insist on the church taking his collar herself.

“I think I’ve seen enough for us to come up with a plan,” Abbie concluded, “When do you want to get started?”

“How about today? After we’re done with practice? Over lunch?”

Abbie nodded, “Sounds good. I’d like them to do some drills on ball handling. That looks like a common weakness.”

“Very well Tre-,” Ichabod stood quickly, turning his back to Abbie and waving over the girls, thankful that it didn’t _appear_ that Abbie had noticed his slip.

“Yes, Reverend Ichabod,” Sarah said once she was close enough.

“Coach Abbie would like all of you to conduct ball handling drills for the rest of practice. Do you think you could organize that for her?” Ichabod asked the fifteen year old. Sarah, who frankly reminded Ichabod of Abbie in appearance, had been in foster care since she was a toddler.

“No problem,” she answered, jogging back to her teammates.

“I think we found our team captain,” Abbie observed.

“Indeed.”

 __________

“Now I must tell you, Rufus is very possessive of me, especially around women,” Ichabod and Abbie had picked up take out Chinese and decided to go to his apartment to discuss the team since his place was closer, “The last time my sisters visited, Rufus would barely let them sit next to me and I swear Leena has called her the Devil’s Spawn on more than one occasion.”

“I’m sure it’ll be ok,” Abbie replied climbing the stairs to the apartment behind Ichabod, “I’ll keep my hands off her man.”

“Funny.”

Ichabod opened the front door to his apartment, letting Abbie step Into the entryway. She looked around as Ichabod helped her take off her coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. The first thing Abbie noticed was the light. Even though it was a pretty dreary winter day, the apartment was flooded with light – a gift of the large windows and high ceilings.

“Would you like a tour,” Ichabod asked, observing Abbie perusal of his home.

“Sure.”

“Well, clearly this is the lounge.”

“I like it,” Abbie replied and she did. On one side of the room was a long, neutral colored sofa, long enough for Ichabod to stretch out on, Abbie suspected. It was piled with various pillows – Indian, African and indigenous textiles. Next to the sofa was an easy chair with a foot stool…of course. Abbie smiled softly, imagining Ichabod reading there most nights.

“I’ve travelled a lot. I like to have mementos of the trips,” Ichabod said, explaining away the pillows.

“I _said_ I like it,” Abbie admonished, moving further into the room to examine the bookshelves lining the entire wall across from the sofa, “How many books do you have?”

“I’ve honestly lost count,” he answered, “but I can say that I’ve read them all.”

“I bet.” Scattered on the bookshelves were various photographs. Abbie recognized Ichabod’s sisters in several from when they were kids. “It looks like you had a great childhood.”

“I did,” Ichabod reminisced, “ l was very fortunate.”

“Yes you were,” Abbie looked over her shoulder at him, letting Ichabod know she was recalling her own difficult upbringing. “Are these your parents?”

Ichabod walked over to Abbie’s side, “Yes, that was the day I finished what you would call high school.”

“Your hair was so long,” Abbie remarked, looking at the picture of a young Ichabod standing between his parents, his hair resting in loose waves past his shoulders. Abbie could tell by the picture that his mother was ill, but clearly so proud. Ichabod resembled her, but had the height and bearing of his father.

“Yes, well…youth.”

Abbie reached up and brushed her fingers through his hair, unconsciously thinking how soft it was between her fingers, “I guess the shorter hair works on you too.” 

“Thank you,” Ichabod swallowed at Abbie’s touch, before pointing to the left, “Through here is the kitchen.”

Abbie stepped over the threshold to the bright, utilitarian room, smiling at the book resting on the small table by the window. Abbie walked over and sat down at the table, curious to know what Ichabod had been reading with his breakfast, “A Wrinkle in Time. I like this story. I read it when I was young,” she said, noticing the mark wasn’t very far into the book and looked up at Ichabod to ask, “Just started it?”

“Um…Yes. One of the girls in my teen sexuality class at the church mentioned it and I realized I’d never read it, so…” he explained, hands up in a type of shrug. 

Abbie stood, caressing the book one last time and walked past Ichabod, turning left towards the back of the apartment, “What’s in here?”

“The second bedroom. I use is as an office and guest room,” he replied, opening the door to another sun-filled room. Abbie noticed the day bed, also covered with intricate textiles, “From the time I went to Morocco,” he said, answering Abbie’s unspoken question.

“What a beautiful desk,” Abbie exclaimed, making a beeline for the large, oak, roll-top desk set against the far wall.

“It was my mother’s and her favorite uncle’s before that,” Ichabod’s eyes slightly glazed over as he smiled, remembering, “My earliest memory of her was sitting at that desk, more than likely working on a sermon.”

“Do you write your sermons here?” Abbie moved her hand slowly back and forth across the wood as she asked.

“When I write at home, yes,” Ichabod watched Abbie small hand as it moved, entranced, “It makes me feel closer to her somehow. Like she’s helping me get the words right to truly help those who need it.”

“That’s nice,” Abbie said sincerely, turning away from the desk back towards the door where Ichabod was still standing, “I don’t have anything like that…just a couple of pictures of my Dad before he left us.” 

“I’m sorry for that Abbie.”

Abbie shrugged, moving past Ichabod down the short hallway, “Don’t be. It is what it is.”

Ichabod reached from behind Abbie to switch on the light in the white-tiled bathroom. In doing so, he brushed the side of her neck and felt the shiver that went through her at the contact, “This is the bathroom. I’m quite pleased with it. I like to take baths and this is one of the few bathtubs I’ve ever had that fits me.

“Looks like it could fit two. Now, if I open the medicine cabinet, I’m not going to see a whole lot of manscaping products, am I,” Abbie asked over her shoulder, her smile letting Ichabod know she was teasing.

“Hardly,” he huffed, “some beard oil, body lotion and deodorant. That’s about it.”

Ichabod turned to the very back of the apartment. The door was slightly cracked and Abbie saw the sunlight streaming out.

“This is my bedroom,” Ichabod said moving into the large room. Abbie noted it was simply furnished. Against the longest wall was the bed – a king from the looks of it. There was a blue and red quilt on the bed. Abbie also saw that across the bed was another, smaller bookcase and next to it, hanging on the wall -  a small wooden cross – the only visible sign of Ichabod’s faith in their tour of his apartment. Beneath the cross was a dresser. On it Ichabod had a comb, a brush, and some money.

Lounging in a pool of sunlight in the very center of the bed was a sweet looking, medium-sized, short-haired beige and white cat.

“You must be Rufus,” Abbie cooed, sitting on the bed near the cat.

“Careful Abbie,” Ichabod cautioned, “She has claws and likes to use them.”

Rufus lifted her head at the sound of Ichabod’s voice and gave a semi-interested meow. Abbie giggled at the display of feline superiority and scratched Rufus on her head. To Ichabod’s amazement, Rufus didn’t nip at Abbie, but rather leaned into her touch with a contented purr. “Oh, you like that, huh?” Abbie bent down, placing her head near the cat’s,” You’re such a sweet girl, yes you are.”

Ichabod watched gobsmacked as Rufus raised up on all four legs and curved her back into a full stretch, allowing Abbie to move from scratching her head to her back. “Yes, right there. That’s what you like,” Abbie continued, moving further into the bed, crossing her legs next to Rufus who immediately settled into Abbie’s lap as if they both belonged exactly where they were.

“I’m frankly amazed,” Ichabod smiled down at the pair from his position next to the bed, “I don’t think she’s ever been this nice to any woman,” he raised an eyebrow considering, “I wonder if she’s ever been this nice to _me_.”

“Oh, now who’s jealous,” Abbie said drily. She scooted over to the edge of the bed, lifting Rufus in her arms. The cat adjusted, resting her head against Abbie’s breast and settled into a loud purr. Ichabod couldn’t blame her. He would have too.

“Well, I’m hungry Rufus,” Abbie said stroking down the cat’s back in long passes, “Let’s go eat the lunch that your Daddy brought for us, ok?”

Ichabod was honest enough with himself to recognize what caused his sharp intact of breath at Abbie’s words – it wasn’t Rufus his mind’s eye saw Abbie holding, but a child – their child. The amount of longing he felt was a physical ache and he sent up a silent prayer for strength.

“Yes,” he coughed as cover for his thoughts, “I’m sure it’s gone cold, but I can heat it up.”

Abbie watched from the doorway to the kitchen as Ichabod heated their lunch on the stove and filled Rufus' food and water bowls. Ichabod shrugged somewhat embarrassed when Abbie commented on his lack of a microwave, saying he never really found the use for one.

Abbie still held and stroked Rufus, who looked as if she had no intention of ever letting Abbie go. Ichabod couldn’t blame the cat for that either.

“It shouldn’t take long to heat,” Ichabod turned down the flame on the beef with broccoli in one pot and the chicken lo mein in the other.

“Ok,” a silence fell over the room. The sun was starting to go down and the kitchen would soon be bathed in half-lit shadows.

“His name was Tommy Stewart,” Abbie said quietly.

“Who was Tommy Stewart,” Ichabod asked, stirring the beef to make sure it didn’t stick.

“The kid I killed,” Abbie answered before starting again, “The person I shot in self-defense who died from his injuries.”

Abbie continued to stroke Rufus absentmindedly, “I could tell he was high on something, opioids I think. I tried to talk him down, but it wasn’t working.  I don’t even know where he pulled the gun from, but it happened so fast. He was pointing it at my head. I moved to the side as he pulled the trigger, aimed and took my shot,” Abbie looked up at Ichabod, tears in her eyes, “He was just a kid. _A_ _stupid_ _kid_. He deserved to get clean, get a job, marry some girl _way_ out of his league and die of old age.”

Abbie sobbed, holding tight to Rufus,  “He didn’t deserve to die on some side street in the middle of the night.”

Rufus protested being held so tightly,  jumping down from Abbie’s arms, but rubbed against her leg soothingly before leaving the kitchen, “I mean, was my life worth more than his?”

Ichabod turned off the stove and crossed to Abbie, gathering her against his chest. He felt her tighten her arms around his back, “Oh Abbie, my treasure, it’s ok. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

Abbie muffled against his sweater, “How do you know?”

“Because while his life was not worth less than yours, yours is not worth less than his. You deserve to follow your calling to serve, find a man who knows _very_ _well_ that he married up, live a long life and die of extreme old age surrounded by family and friends,” Ichabod rubbed down Abbie’s back, feeling some of the tension leave her, “I just feel like I’ll always see his face in my dreams,” Abbie said, her face still pressed tight against Ichabod’s chest.

“You may,” Ichabod didn’t sugarcoat, “But it _will_ get better over time. I’d be far more worried if you didn’t feel this guilt. You’re a good, decent person and will always regret that Tommy Stewart won't have the life he deserved. But you must never regret that you did live, Treasure. Never.”

Abbie pulled back slightly to look up at Ichabod, his face in half shadows from the setting sun, “Treasure?”

“Yes, well….” Ichabod started to remove his hands from around her, but Abbie held tight, asking again, “Treasure?”

Ichabod sighed, moving back into Abbie arms, cupping her left cheek gently, “Yes, you are a treasure. A gift from God, I’m sure of it.”

“Wow,” Abbie was awed, “That’s a lot of pressure…being a gift from God.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ichabod continued, stroking Abbie’s cheek, feeling her lean into his touch, “You don’t owe me anything Abbie. We can go back to the way things were.”

“Can we?” Abbie asked, cupping his hand with her own, holding it in place against her cheek. Abbie swallowed, “I don’t think we can. But that doesn’t mean this could work Ichabod. We’ve _so_ different.”

“How so?”

“You’re a Minister for one thing.”

“And you’re a police officer,” Ichabod reminded her of the stakes, “Your job is far more dangerous than mine.”

“You’re celibate.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged, “by choice, because finding you was worth the wait, Abbie.”

“Are you saying I can jump your bones right now?”

“Well, maybe not _right now,_ but in time, I’d like us to discover one another…completely.” Ichabod’s gaze was smoldering, even in the approaching darkness.

“I curse like a fucking sailor,” Abbie pitched her last objection, “It's not exactly minister’s girlfriend material.”

Ichabod actually laughed, “You think I’m unaware of your colorful vocabulary? When I first saw you, I believe you were calling Frank Irving an asshole…while _sitting_ in my church.”

“This isn’t another thirst trap, is it,” Abbie asked more than a little serious.

“Thirst trap? Is that what you think I am,” Ichabod asked quietly, raising an eyebrow as Abbie leaned against him, raising up to be closer as he bent down, “Thirst traps are bait Abbie. They don’t deliver. I assure you on my honor, I am _not_ a thirst trap. I fully, _fully_ intend to deliver.”

And then Ichabod Crane kissed her and as Sweet Baby Jesus was her witness, Abbie knew instantly she’d have to change Ichabod’s name in her phone.


	10. The Reverend Dr. Feelgood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and Ichabod's new relationship progresses...slowly.
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and questions. I hope you enjoy and mistakes are all on me.

He took his time with this, their first kiss, lightly pressing his lips to Abbie’s, discovering the texture and feel of her mouth beneath his. Her lips were plump and equally full…and soft. They were _so_ soft. _All of her was so soft in his arms._ Abbie moaned her pleasure, pressing tighter against him, feeling the obvious evidence of his desire against her lower stomach. She rubbed against it, wanting more… _all_...of what Ichabod had to give. His answering deep-throated groan was the reward for her nerve and he brushed his tongue against her bottom lip, tasting her. _She tastes so good,_ he moaned again with realization. 

Ichabod pulled slightly away for a moment, knowing they both needed air, but not as much as they needed each other because it was Abbie who reached up, tangling her hands in his hair to tug him immediately back down to her after drawing in a grateful breath.

His second kiss was more…insistent. He wanted… _needed_ more of Abbie, pulling her tighter against his chest, her breasts and hips and bum a reminder of their differences and swelling him even more. Ichabod tasted her upper lip with his tongue. _How does she taste so good,_ he asked awed. Moving slightly, he touched the seam of Abbie’s lips with request, _Open to me. Let me in, Treasure._

Abbie didn’t just open, she advanced, coming out to taste _him_ , dueling his tongue with hers, moaning into his mouth, her small, strong hands _demanding_ as she pressed closer, raising herself up and hooking her leg around his for leverage. _So this is what it’s like to be climbed like a tree,_ he smiled until Abbie moved again, sliding her tongue into his mouth as she cupped the sides of his face, lightly scratching his beard. Ichabod felt his knees buckle. He pulled back again for air…and sanity.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, _anything_ , in my life.”

“Then have me,” Abbie answered, rubbing herself against him so much like a cat she practically purred. No wonder Rufus loved her.

“Yes,” Ichabod rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard with the effort to rein in his desire, “but not tonight. Not like this.”

“Why the hell not,” Abbie asked, her chest rising and falling. _There aren’t enough toys in the world to take care of this,_ Abbie thought, frustrated. She was _throbbing._

"Because discovery takes time,” he answered plainly.

“How much time,” Abbie’s question a side eye.

“Less than you think, but more than just a day,” Ichabod smiled sweetly down at Abbie, pulling her somewhat reluctant self back into his arms, “I want a relationship with you, a life, not just sex.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive Ichabod,” Abbie deadpanned.

“No, they are not.”

Abbie put her cards on the table.  Better he knows now, “I like sex and I think I would really like sex with you.”

“There’s no _thinking_ for me, Abbie. Making love to you would be… _will be_ …a highlight of my life, when it happens, but not tonight.”

“Fine... not tonight,” Abbie poked Ichabod in the chest, “But I am _not_ going to spend the better part of my life with figurative blue balls, so we’re going to have to figure something out in the meantime. Deal?”

“Deal,” Ichabod nodded.

“Well, if you not going to _eat me,_ you might as well _feed me_ ,” Abbie said with an exaggerated sigh. She was horny as fuck. She was frustrated as hell. She _still_ didn’t know for certain if this, _thing_ , between them would work, but Abbie did know that somehow Ichabod Crane was in her heart. He was worth the risk.

Ichabod kissed the top of her head with a chuckle and went back to the stove to finish reheating the Chinese food.

__________ 

“Abbiiee”,” Abbie heard his voice as if from a distance, “Abbbieee, sweetheart, wake up.”

“No,” Abbie whined, turning over to snuggle into the furry creature that now, seemingly permanently, occupied Ichabod’s side of the bed.

Kisses. Soft, sweet, open-mouthed kisses were next, “Abbie,” he whisper kissed against her neck, “You have to get to ready for work, treasure. You don’t want to be late. It’s a big day.”

“Noooo,” Abbie turned over on her back and stretched like the cat that now liked her far more than she did Ichabod. Her arms reached over her head, drawing the covers down and exposing the tops of Abbie’s absolutely luscious breasts hidden underneath her sleep tank.

Ichabod felt his mouth water. What kind of idiot heterosexual man has a warm, willing woman in his bed and does his level best to get her out of it? _That would be me_ , Ichabod concluded with a smirk. “Abbie, out of bed with you. I have _coffee,”_ he encouraged, bringing the large mug from around his back waving it under Abbie’s nose.  Like the coffee zombie he knew her to be, Abbie reached out for the life-giving elixir on instinct.  But Ichabod had learned his lesson over the several times they had done this. He held the coffee just out of reach, forcing Abbie to sit up to get it.

“I hate you,” Abbie said only half joking. It was dark o’thirty and she wanted more sleep, but he was right…it was a big day and Abbie didn’t want to be late for work, “Ok, I’m up…give me the coffee and no one gets hurt.”

Ichabod laughed and handed over the perfect brew.  Abbie took a grateful sip.  The man might still be sexually frustrating the fuck out of her in the two weeks and three days they’d been dating, but he did keep her in coffee, as well as kisses and cuddles.  It _almost_ made up for her near constant, throbbing horniness. Almost.

Ichabod sat next to Abbie on the bed, careful to keep his hands away from Rufus’ reach. Since Abbie had been sleeping over on the weekends, Rufus has unilaterally decided that she was Abbie’s protector, sleeping right in the middle of the bed between them and swatting at Ichabod when she thought he strayed too close to Abbie in the night.  Abbie of course, though it was _hilarious,_ laughing for a good five minutes when Ichabod called his pet a “Devil Spawn Cock Blocker” on one particularly painful morning of Rufus’ scratches. Abbie determined that if she was going to suffer, so was Ichabod and lovingly referred to Rufus’ actions as “karma.”

“Are you truly up,’ Ichabod smiled his question, stroking along Abbie’s neck and shoulder.

Abbie tilted her head to the side, her coffee temporarily forgotten. His hands were like fire on her skin, “Yes, I’m awake.  Couldn’t go back to sleep now if I wanted to. Besides, it’s my first day back on full duty. Lots to do.”

“How do you feel about it,” Ichabod, asked, concerned.

“Ok,” Abbie said thoughtfully, “I’ve been sleeping. Thanks to you.” Abbie leaned forward and kissed Ichabod good morning, drawing his lower lip into her mouth with a groan. Ichabod didn’t like the taste of coffee, but he loved the taste of Abbie – coffee or not, “But I know I’m going to be beat tonight, so I might not stop by.”

“As you wish,” Ichabod agreed, “But if you come here after work, I would be happy to make you dinner, give you a massage and run you a hot bath.”

“Damn you’re good,” Abbie smiled mischievously, “I tell you what, I’ll bring dinner. You can give me a massage and take the bath _with_ me. Your tub is big enough for two.” Abbie’s eyes were half-lidded as she watched Ichabod’s breathing speed up.

“This will be the first time we’ll see each other naked,” he reminded her, eyes damn near on fire.

“Yup,” Abbie acknowledged, jumping out of bed with new purpose, kissing Ichabod brightly, “Something to look forward to. Have you completed your devotional yet?”

"Um, yes,” Ichabod replied, his libido calming down at her question. One thing that surprised Ichabod in his new relationship with Abbie was how easy it was to incorporate his at home religious practices into their time together. Ichabod spent time with God every morning upon waking and every evening after dinner if he was not holding office hours.  The first time Abbie had stayed over, he’d felt a tad awkward explaining it, but Abbie had simply said, “Ok,’ picked a book from his extensive collection, told him she would read until he was done and to take his time. His devotional time was now her reading time and it was fine for both of them.

“I’m going to hit the shower and get out of here.”

“Not without breakfast,” he reprimanded lovingly. Most days, Abbie would skip breakfast, but Ichabod always made her eat something healthy if she left from his place. She complied because it made him happy.

“And my second cup of coffee,” Abbie reminded, leaving the bedroom with Rufus on her heels, the cat’s tail swishing her newfound disdain of Ichabod as she left, “Devil Spawn,” he murmured. _Unbelievable._

“Morning Mills,” Frank Irving greeted Abbie at the back of the station holding her third cup of coffee of the day, which she took with extreme gratitude. He noted the pep in her step and smile lighting up her face.  Abbie was back to work today as a fully reinstated police officer, having completed her time with Dr. Corinth. But Frank knew that wasn’t the source of her happy grin, “Spend the night with Reverend Dr. Feelgood again?”

“ _At_ , not _with_ …and you have _got_ to stop looking over my shoulder when I’m on my phone,” Abbie corrected, still mindful of Ichabod’s reputation. He _was_ a minister after all, “But yes, the Reverend Dr. Feelgood saw me off this morning with two cups of coffee and a healthy breakfast.” Abbie walked through the door that Frank held open for her, unbuttoning her light winter jacket.

“And a slap your mama, toe-curling kiss too from that goofy look on your face.”

“You know, you _really_ are an asshole,” Abbie smiled, “I’m surprised you haven’t been busting on me every day for the last two weeks. What gives, Irving…you going soft in your old age?”

Frank stopped walking and gestured for Abbie to follow him into an empty office, closing the door behind her for privacy, “Honestly Mills, I’m shit-eating happy for you. I didn’t bust on you because I didn’t want you to run from Crane. This is a good thing. You deserve this.” Frank’s face was serious and he meant every word. He didn’t know anyone who deserved happiness like Abbie did. Life had been rough for her.

Abbie replied with a soft smile, “Frank, thanks. It’s crazy, but it’s works with Ichabod. It really does.”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll listen to Frank, Miss-I don’t-want-to-date-a-minister- Mills,” Frank teased, opening the door so they could both start their day.

“Shut _up_ ,” Abbie laughed, pushing Frank slightly as they walked down the hall.

__________

“Good evening, Treasure,” Ichabod opened the door for Abbie, taking the bags of takeout from her and into the kitchen.  He came back out just in time to see her hanging her coat on the hook by the door. “I know. I know, but I was removing my coat by myself long before I met you Ichabod,” Abbie rolled her eyes affectionately at his raised eyebrow.

“Very well,” he replied.

“Where’s my girl?’

“In the bedroom, napping. I’m surprised she hasn’t come out to greet you yet,” Ichabod sounded just short of bitter, drawing a laugh from Abbie.

“Now baby, don’t be jealous,” Abbie cooed, putting her arms around his waist, “You know you’re the only one for me…although if Rufus were human, you _might_ have some serious competition.”

Ichabod responded to Abbie’s teasing smile, “You do realize that Rufus would be a woman?”

“And?” she replied, “I’d go gay for that cat.”

“Wrong. So wrong.” Ichabod bent down to kiss Abbie, doing his level best to make her forget all about their cat.

“Ichabod,” Abbie purred between kisses, “I brought Indian for dinner.” 

“Excellent. I like Indian.”

“And donuts for dessert.”

“Donuts?”

“Hey, date a cop, get a donut.” Abbie shrugged, kissing down Ichabod’s neck, “but I don’t need a massage or dinner right now. My day was pretty good.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Ichabod placed his hands on Abbie’s beautiful bum and squeezed, bringing her hard against his body asking darkly, “What do you need, Treasure?”

“That bath you promised me,” Abbie panted, feeling him against her. All of him.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, “I thought you might say that. The water is hot…waiting for us.” Ichabod looked into Abbie’s eyes, “Shall we get naked?”

Abbie felt her core clinch and her heart start to race, “You first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me...runs to hide with the promise of a new chapter soon.


	11. Naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and Ichabod get naked, in more ways than one.
> 
> This chapter moves us closer to the M-rating. You've been warned or you're welcome, depending on your point of view (I don't judge;-)
> 
> Thanks again for the comments, I value every single one. Mistakes are on me and as always, thanks for reading!

Ichabod took Abbie’s hand and lead her into the bathroom. She gasped at what he had done. Beside the bubbles filled tub, Ichabod had placed a small table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. On the window seal were votive candles that provided the only light in the room. It was romantic. It was intimate. It was so _him._

“Ichabod,” Abbie breathed, “You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.”

“I wanted to,” he replied softly, taking her hand in his, caressing across her knuckles with his thumb, “I need to tell you something, Abbie,” Ichabod said quietly, looking at Abbie’s hand in his.

“What is it, babe?”

“I promised myself when we started dating I would always be honest…with myself and with you.” 

“Ok,” Abbie was lovingly confused, “what do you need to be honest about?”

Ichabod took a breath, still holding Abbie’s hand, “The reason we’re here. The reason I agreed to this.”

“And?” Abbie’s brow crinkled.

“I’m,” Ichabod exhaled, starting again, “I’m falling in love with you and I hope…I hope that you’re falling in love with me too.”

“Oh…wow.” Abbie mouth opened in a surprised "O" shape.

Ichabod looked at Abbie, earnest, “I have hope, but that is my concern. You're under no obligation to love me, Treasure. Ever. I simply wanted to be honest with you about how I feel,” Ichabod paused before continuing, “and if you want us to end now because you’ll never feel the same, I’ll understand.”

Abbie looked at Ichabod for almost a solid minute before releasing him and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, hands in her lap, twisting.

“Today, I made the rounds of some of the business owners to say I was back,” Abbie started, “and they were _so_ happy to see me. Mrs. Chung, who owns the Korean market on Main Street, told me that I was in her prayers every night since the shooting. _Every night_ , Ichabod, she prayed for me. Mr. Gonzalez wouldn’t let me leave without a slice of pie, on the house, he was so happy I was back.”

“That’s wonderful, Abbie,” Ichabod said, happy that she’d had a good day.

“Yes, it was,” Abbie replied, standing up and taking Ichabod’s hand in hers, “but the really amazing thing is every time something good happened I thought _, I have to remember to tell Ichabod or Ichabod will think this is funny._ I did that the whole day.”

Abbie turned over Ichabod’s hand, examining the creases, lines and small scars that marked it. “You have such beautiful hands…”

“Abbie?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love,” she continued, following the lines in his palm with her pointer finger, “so I don’t know what that feels like…what this is.”

“Abbie, you-“

“Let me finish,” Abbie looked up sharply from Ichabod’s palm to his eyes and he was astonished by what he saw. Grace Abigail Mills was there with him. _All of her_ , “But I do know that if I’m going to fall in love with someone, _anyone_ , it’s going to be with you.”

Abbie shrugged, “That’s my truth Ichabod. And no, I don’t want us to end.”

Ichabod cupped Abbie’s cheek, lifting her face for a soft, reverent kiss. He poured all his love into it before pulling back, moving his hands to the top of his button down shirt.

“Abbie, look at me please,” Ichabod asked, “I’m getting naked for you.”

Ichabod held Abbie’s gaze as he unbuttoned, one by one, the buttons on his shirt. Every bit of skin revealed was his gift to her, until his entire chest was exposed to her loving examination. He was fit, lean with corded muscle and a six-pack that had no business being on someone so tall and lanky – especially a person who used words and not his body to make a living. Ichabod let the shirt drop to the side and reached for his belt buckle. Abbie noted that he’d been barefoot when he answered the door…now she knew why.

Loosening the buckle until it hung to the sides, he unbuttoned his jeans one by one, never taking his eyes off Abbie. He slide the jeans down and kicked them off, standing in just his boxer shorts. Abbie could see the tent of them and knew what that meant. She panted lightly with anticipation. Ichabod, still holding her gaze with no shame or embarrassment, only love, let the boxer shorts drop. He stepped out of them, raising up to his full height. Naked.

He was firm. He was erect. He was ready. He was, “Beautiful,” Abbie spoke the first words between them since Ichabod started removing his clothes. She meant it. He _was_ beautiful, inside and out.

“If you’d prefer that I turn around while you…that’s fine of course…” Abbie smiled at him. Ichabod, even naked before her, was still the gentleman.

Silently, Abbie sat down on the toilet seat and removed her socks and shoes. Standing, holding Ichabod’s gaze, she repeated his words back to him, simply, but with all the meaning in her heart, “Ichabod, look at me. Please. I’m getting naked for you.”

Abbie reached down the the edges of the light weight sweater, pulling it over her head, breaking her contact with Ichabod momentarily. When she emerged he was still right there, staring into her eyes waiting. She reached to unbutton her khaki pants, unzipping them and pushing them down her hips with a shimmy before kicking them to the side.

Although Abbie wore largely utilitarian clothes – fitted pants, light weight sweaters and low heeled boots...clothing that made moving...and running if necessary, easier for her line of work, she had a secret collection of barely there lingerie. Abbie stood before Ichabod in white – a lace bra that displayed her breasts to perfection and throng style underwear that covered her core but little else. Her waist was tiny, dipping in above the flare of her hips and her defined thighs. Her stomach was firm, but not muscular. She was small but perfectly proportioned and strong – if not a holdover from her days as an athlete, then certainty a requirement of her role as a police officer. The color against her skin was another revelation, making her glow in the candlelit room.

Still holding his gaze with a slight smile, Abbie reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting the fabric slide down her arms to the floor. Her breasts settled heavily with the release, to be such a small woman, Abbie’s breasts were larger and beautiful rounded. The nipples peaked in her arousal and Ichabod swallowed at the sight briefly before bringing his eyes back to hers. Ichabod was a gentleman, but he was a man, not a saint.

Slowly…slowly, Abbie hooked her fingers into the panties and slid them over her hips, bending at the waist to move the fabric down her legs. When they were at her ankles, she kicked them to the side and stood tall. Naked.

Ichabod took a moment to breath his awe at her beauty, “The great artists should have been able to paint you…”

“Thank you,” Abbie replied with a smile, “Is the water cold?” She slightly shivered, from the cold or anticipation, Abbie wouldn’t have been able to say.

Ichabod reached into the water, “No, I ran it extra hot. It’s perfect now.” He stepped into the bathtub, sat down and leaned back, “Are you going to join me, Treasure?”

Abbie stood by the bathtub, a small smirk lifting one side of her mouth as she looked down at Ichabod comfortably waiting for her to join him, “Well this was my idea. Should I pour the wine?”

“Yes please,” Ichabod looked at Abbie from the top of the messy, curly-haired bun at the top of her head to her fire engine red painted toenails. She was perfection.

Abbie poured the glasses of wine and turning her back to Ichabod, stepping into the tub. He was given a full view of her glorious, naked backside and felt the blood rush south with renewed vengeance. He now fully understood the expression, _you could bounce a quarter off that ass._

Settling into the tub, Abbie sat between Ichabod’s legs and leaned back, using his chest as her back rest. Abbie exhaled, releasing all the tension of her day, “The water feels good.”

“Yes, it does.”

Abbie caressed Ichabod’s arm where it rested on the side of the tub, feeling the goosebumps she left on him in her wake, “You feel good too.”

"Thank you," he replied before asking, "May I wash you?"

“Sure,” Abbie answered, far more casually than she felt. She could feel Ichabod’s hardness beneath her ass. He was long, really long and hard as steel. Then there was the feel of his chest hairs against her back and his thighs against her hips. Abbie felt like she should just burst into flames and get it over with…this was the best and worst kind of torture and _fuck her_ , she’d done it to herself.

Ichabod reached to the side to pick up the soap.  He dipped both hands in the water around Abbie letting her feel the corded muscles of his arms around her. _Damn._ When he’d lathered enough suds to his satisfaction, he put aside the soap.

The first thing Abbie felt were his strong fingers kneading her shoulders, spreading the soap but also massaging out small knots of tension. “Does that feel good, Treasure?” His voice was silken sin and Abbie groaned in response, rolling her head against his chest. “Good. Relax Abbie. Tonight is for you.”

Ichabod moved down Abbie’s arms, massaging, spreading the soap. He stopped and lathered up his hands again. Abbie’s eyes were closed, but she felt the movement and pressure of his arms closing around her.

“May I continue?”

“You better,” Abbie exhaled, tingling with anticipation of where she'd feel his _fucking fantastic_ hands on her next.

Ichabod didn’t make her wait, cupping under her breasts with both hands, sliding his fingers across her nipples, back and forth as he lifted their heaviness. His hands were so large they almost covered her completely and Abbie felt her nipples digging into his palms and the slight squeeze he gave her breasts in return. The sensations went directly to her long-neglected clit and Abbie rubbed her legs together under the water, trying to lessen the throbbing, empty ache.

“Your breasts are so beautiful Abbie,” Ichabod murmured, still squeezing and lifting them, “so heavy, firm and full. Luscious.” Abbie felt his finger and thumb pluck her nipples and squeeze lightly.

“Uhhh,” Abbie panted at the feeling. _Fuck…_

 _"_ You like that?”

“Yes…yes…what do you think?”

“I think I love your body and could spend a lifetime discovering what else you like, Treasure.”

“No time like the present,” Abbie quipped, rubbing her thighs together so quickly the water was starting to churn.

“Indeed,” he whispered, tilting his head slightly to be heard, “Would you like some assistance with that” he asked, still cupping her breasts and lightly pinching her nipples again as Abbie writhed and groaned.

“Assistance with what?” Abbie replied, feeling barely able to breath.

“ _The ache_ ,” Ichabod answered moving his right hand down Abbie stomach, slowly. So slowly.

“Oh God, yes.  _Please_ ,” Abbie cried, opening her legs in invitation as much as she could with Ichabod surrounding her.

Ichabod pressed two fingers against Abbie’s clit firmly as he lifted her slightly into his lap.  The relief was a miracle, “Please don’t stop.”

“Tell me what to do Treasure. Tell me what you need,” Ichabod demanded, moving his left hand down to press against Abbie’s clit as the long finger on his right hand pressed inside Abbie, moving in small circles.

“More…” Abbie’s climax was barreling towards her. She’d never felt so good in her life.

“More what, Treasure?”

“More…more…oh your fingers feel _so good_ inside me. More,” Abbie moaned, almost beyond being able to say what she needed. She just _needed._

Abbie felt two more fingers stretch her as the pressure on her clit increased. She was practically sitting on Ichabod’s hardness rubbing back and forth, chasing sensation, almost out of her mind with how good she felt, “ _Fuck_ …”

“That’s it,” Ichabod held her safe in his arms even as he drove Abbie over the edge, pressing on her and pumping faster in and out with his fingers, “Let go. Let it all go.”

“Yes…yes…yes,” Abbie’s back arched as she came hard. Ichabod kept up the pressure of his fingers, pushing her higher and higher until she felt herself coming again, _“Shit!”_

“That’s it.  So beautiful, Treasure. You’re so beautiful.”

Abbie finally relaxed against Ichabod, spent but still held as he removed his fingers from her and caressed her thighs lovingly, “Better?”

Abbie huffed out a laugh, “So much better,” she could still feel Ichabod beneath her, hard and long as a steel pipe, “But what about you?”

“What about me, Treasure?”

“Don’t you want some help with that,” she asked, moving her ass across his shaft.  The water had gone cold, but Abbie didn’t want to leave just yet.

Ichabod put his hands on Abbie’s hips, stopping her movement, “No. Tonight is about you and I’m so grateful.”

“Grateful?” Abbie turned her head up and back to look at Ichabod. He returned her gaze, cupping her chin with his hand, “Yes grateful.”

“I don’t understand, babe.”

“I’m so grateful for you, Abbie.  Thank you…for letting me love you.”

 Abbie blinked back tears and turned further to softly kiss Ichabod’s shoulder, “Thank you for loving me…”


	12. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod is installed at the new head minister of the church and Abbie muses on what they truly mean to each other.
> 
> Thanks again for the comments and questions. I can't tell you how much they mean to me - you all rock.
> 
> Mistakes are on me - I'm sure there are a few. Thanks again for reading!

Abbie was a mission of faith and hope. She’d pulled an overnight investigating a series of home invasions and was desperate for good coffee to get her through the day of making calls and tracking down leads. Unfortunately, the department’s coffee only qualified as basic sludge on the best of days. 

Abbie put on her coat. She planned to beeline to her favorite coffee place and get right back to work _. It’s not Ichabod’s coffee, but it’ll have to do,_ Abbie smiled to herself, remembering how Ichabod had sent her on her overnight with a soul-searing kiss, a request to “Be careful, Treasure” and a thermos full of his coffee. Abbie could have married him on the spot.

“Mills…Abbie...wait up,” Luke Morales had put his limited investigative skills to nefarious use and discovered that Abbie was dating a local _minister_ , of all people.  _It’ll be like taking candy from a baby_ , Luke smirked to himself.

Abbie stopped in the hallway and turned around, impatient “What’s up, Luke? I need coffee. _Now_.”

“Got an itch that needs scratching,” Luke responded with a laugh, expecting Abbie to laugh with him. She didn’t…he didn’t notice, “I hear you’re dating a minister these days.”

“Yeah, so what?” Abbie asked, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, hand on her hip. Luke took that as an invitation to put his hand lightly on Abbie’s waist.

Abbie looked down to where Luke’s hand rested on her and back up to his clueless face, “If you don’t take your hand off me, I swear to God, I’ll fucking break it.”

Abbie Mills was certified in close-quarter hand-to-hand combat and Morales knew he wouldn’t stand a chance, but he was no punk. He removed his hand… _slowly_ , “Come on Abbie,” Luke stepped closer to Abbie, hovering, “I know you…you like it _good_ and that minister…I mean…he _can’t_ be laying it.” Luke laughed confidently. 

 _If only I could beat your sorry ass without losing my job_ , Abbie shook her head in disgust, “ _Spell_ clitoris.”

“What?” Luke asked, clearly confused.

“ _Exactly_ asshole,” Abbie turned on her heel and left Luke standing there with his mouth open. If she spoke to him for more than five minutes again, it would be too much. _Damn_ , Abbie thought, _Now I really need coffee._

Abbie had just taken a sip of her life-giving elixir, eyes closed in bliss, when she heard her name being called, “Abbie?”

“Oh, hi Reverend Reyes,” Abbie smiled pleasantly at the older woman.  She liked Leena Reyes. Abbie suspected that beneath the mild-mannered, Unitarian Minister was a kick-ass woman that Abbie would really enjoy getting to know better, “How are you doing?

“Good,” Leena smiled back, “That was a great game on Saturday. The girls really pulled it out for a nice win.”

Abbie was happy to bask in the glow and glory of the basketball team she and Ichabod coached to victory against a neighboring team, “Didn’t they though? I was so proud of all of them and Sarah made an _outstanding_ team captain. I hope we can coach the team again next season.  It was a lot of fun.”

“It was,” Leena agreed.

“And the girls really appreciated how the congregation came out to watch them play.  It seemed like half the church was there for their last game before break. I mean, we have a two more weeks of practice, but that's it.”

“Well, you can thank Ichabod for the turnout,” Leena replied, “He made sure everyone knew about the game, the team and that several of our teenagers were competing. He’s good at rallying the troops and you two seem to have a good partnership.”

“Thank you,” Abbie beamed, taking another sip of her coffee.  She needed to get back, “Well, it was nice seeing you Reverend Reyes.”

“Abbie,” Leena asked, stopping Abbie with a tilt of her head. Reyes moved to a small table in the coffee shop sitting down, “Do you have a minute?”

Abbie looked at her watch, “Sure. Just,” she was not about to blow off Ichabod’s boss, but she was in a hurry. Abbie took a seat opposite Leena.

“I wouldn’t normally say anything, but I want Ichabod to get off on the right foot…” Leena started.

Abbie was immediately on alert, concerned, “Is something wrong with Ichabod? I saw him he the day before yesterday and everything seemed fine –“

“No…no, he’s fine,” Leena assured the younger woman with a smile, “But did Ichabod tell you all about the installation and reception tomorrow?”

Abbie sat back, relieved _.  Was that all?_ “Yes…I mean, I know I can’t come to the installation because I’m not a member of the church, but I plan on coming to the reception. This is a big deal for Ichabod.”

“Yes, it is,” Reyes took a beat to study the younger woman, “Abbie, this may be out of bounds, but I feel like I should warn you, for Ichabod’s sake.”

Abbie sat up again, “About what?”

“UU congregations are generally very liberal and understanding.”

“Ok…” Abbie was confused about where this was going, but if it was for Ichabod, she’d be patient…well, as patient as she _could_ be.

“But they value honest representation.”

Abbie was really confused. _Where was this going_? “I don’t understand.”

“They’ll want to know, are you Ichabod’s _guest_ or his _partner,"_ Leena explained, looking Abbie in the eye.

“What does that mean? His partner?”

“It means…how important are you to each other? Like I said, UU members are very liberal. We don’t police the private lives of our clergy and certainly don’t ask them to be monks, but we _do_ ask them to be truthful in the representation of their relationships and to act accordingly. It’s about trust,” Reyes patted Abbie on the shoulder gently after rising from the seat, “Just be honest about who you are to each other and everything will be fine.”

Abbie sat, somewhat stunned, “Ok, but Reverend Reyes,” Abbie turned in the seat to ask, “You said you didn’t want Ichabod to get off on the wrong foot?”

“Yes and he’ll be fine. He has all the makings of a great church leader…and he has you,” Reverend Reyes smiled, leaving Abbie to her thoughts.

Abbie walked back into the station, still thinking…and confused. _What did Reyes even mean? He has me? Just be honest? Like we’re not – come on! How would I know if I’m Ichabod’s partner? Am I Ichabod’s partner? Do I want to be? What the FUCK does that even mean anyway? And shit, if I’m his guest and everybody THINKS I’m his partner, will that mess him up with the congregation? I can’t do anything to mess him up, I love-_

“Mills…paging Abbie,” Frank gripped Abbie by her arms, holding her in place.

Abbie shook her head to clear it, “Why are you holding me Frank?”

“Because you were about to walk right into me, so I thought holding you was better than stepping aside and letting you walk into the damn wall,” Frank said drily, “What’s going on Mills? You ok?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Abbie replied, “I just ran into Reverend Reyes and she said something weird.”

“What? About Reverend Crane’s installation and the reception?”

“Yeah, it was…” Abbie stopped herself, “Actually, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“What,” Frank answered, “forget that you almost walked into a wall because you’re trying to figure out if you’re Crane’s partner or not?”

Abbie was stunned. _The_ _Fucker,_ “How’d you – “

“Assume I know everything,” Frank’s deadpanned logic was flawless, Abbie had to concede, he did seem to know everything. _Damn Fucker._

Abbie gave up, there was no winning against Frank Irving, “Ok. Mr. Know Everything, what’s the answer?”

“Depends on the question,” Frank crossed his arms, looking at Abbie with a knowing smile. She wanted to punch him.

“What question,” Abbie asked, throwing up her hands. _Goddammit!_

Frank smiled, enjoying seeing the normally unflappable Abbie, well…flap, “Ask Crane, Mills. Ask Crane,” and with that, Irving walked down the hall, laughing to himself. Abbie _really_ wanted to punch him.

__________

 

Abbie stood outside the door to Ichabod’s office. It was Thursday evening and Abbie hadn’t been there in well…weeks. She didn’t need to since their relationship had…evolved.

“Come in,” Ichabod answered, a bit of a question lifting his voice. He wasn’t expecting anyone just yet.

Abbie opened the door, “Oh, Abbie. What a pleasant surprise, Treasure. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I…I know,” Abbie started, “If this is a bad time, I’ll talk to you later.”

“No,” Ichabod answered, crossing the room to take Abbie into a loose hug, holding slightly to her sweater. She’d left her coat in the car, “I’m not expecting anyone for another thirty minutes – a college student grappling with some changes in his life.”

“I know the feeling,” Abbie mumbled under her breath, getting Ichabod’s attention. Something was bothering her.

“Come over here. Shall I make you some coffee?” Ichabod led Abbie to the loveseat, sitting beside her. It was strange, Abbie realized.  She didn’t want to talk to her boyfriend. She wanted to talk to Reverend Crane.

“No, you have someone coming soon", Abbie replied, touched by the offer, “But, can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course. Anything,” Ichabod was starting to look worried, Abbie realized and she felt her heart lurch. She never wanted to hurt him. It would kill her, “Can you sit over there…in your chair?”

Ichabod stood and walked over to his easy chair, removing the book he’d placed there and sitting down, “Is this better?’

“Yes,” Abbie exhaled, “Thank you.”

Ichabod gave Abbie a long, searching look, smiled softly and opened his book to read.

“What book are you reading tonight,” Abbie asked after a few minutes of peaceful silence, not able to see the cover.

“Thomas Merton,” Ichabod answered, holding up the book, “The Seven Storey Mountain.”

Abbie’s eyebrows scrunched in thought, “I don’t think I’ve read that one. What’s it about?”

“It’s his autobiography. He was a Trappist monk,” Ichabod answered calmly, waiting for Abbie to tell him why she’d really dropped by.

“Oh, sounds interesting,” Abbie stood, looking over the books on the bookshelf. They were mostly religious texts, Abbie noted, not having really thought about what books he had in his office the last few times she was there, she was so focused on the photographs _._

“Abbie…”

“Am I your partner,” Abbie asked before she knew the words were coming out of her mouth, her back still to Ichabod. _Crap!_

Abbie turned around and saw Ichabod put the book to the side and leaned forward, putting his forearms on his thighs.  Abbie internally sighed, the dark green of his shirt looked  _fucking_ _fantastic_ against the hair on his arms. _I love his arms,_ Abbie thought absently.

“Are you asking if I think of you as my partner, in the romantic sense?” Ichabod’s voice was soft. Kind. Like when they first met and Abbie seemed like she might run at any moment.

“Yes...I think so,” Abbie rubbed her forehead with her hand. She was tired. She’d had a long couple of days. She needed a cup of coffee… _Come on, Mills, be honest with yourself_ , Abbie admonished. She needed a cup of _Ichabod’s_ coffee.

 _“_ Yes, Abbie, I do,” Ichabod said his simple truth plainly, “I’m in love with you.”

“Oh,” Abbie’s breath caught on the unexpected surge of happiness at Ichabod’s declaration. _Love._

“But that’s not the real question,” he continued, “and only you can answer it.  But…and this is important Treasure…no matter your answer, it won’t change how I feel about you.”

Abbie heard the soft knock and sighed, rising to leave and walking towards the door, “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Abbie…wait,” Ichabod rose quickly from the chair to gently grab her arm, “I can call you after I’m done here or stop by your apartment.”

Abbie shook her head, “No…no, I’m tired. It’s been a really long day,” Abbie reached up to quickly peck Ichabod’s lips – she felt a little strange kissing him in a church, but Abbie didn’t want to leave him thinking she wasn’t still all in, “I’ll see you tomorrow night ok?”

“Very well,” Ichabod released Abbie’s arm reluctantly, reaching around her to open the door.  Pete Harrison stood there, looking a little nervous. Abbie felt bad for making the kid wait and gave him her best smile as she walked past him, still not knowing the real question that needed an answer.

____________

_“_ Ok,” Abbie stood in front of her closet, a towel around her just showered body, musing, “what do I wear to the reception for Ichabod’s installation?” Sighing, “No, not the black dress…it’s not a funeral. Not the red, no fucking way can I wear a freakum dress to a church.” _Although Ichabod’s eyes would pop out of his head,_ Abbie thought with a slight smile, _Another time, Mills._

 _"_ The green?” Abbie shook her head. “Too short.”

Abbie snapped her fingers, “Got it!” Abbie moved the other dresses hanging to the side, almost leaning all the way to get at the dress all the way in the back of her closet. Abbie pulled it out, still in the dry-cleaning plastic, “Perfect!”

Ichabod saw Abbie enter the reception at the church and hang up her trench coat, feeling his breath stop. She was absolutely _beautiful_. The dark purple, boat neck dress perfectly showcased her slender neck and collarbone. Her curly hair was piled loosely on top of her head and her makeup was light, letting Abbie’s natural beauty shine.

She wore low heels. Abbie was never going to enjoy wearing heels and Ichabod knew she was far more comfortable in boots. But the black kitten heel gave her just enough lift to add formality to the curves skimming dress that ended just below her knees. They made eye contact and held, attuned to each other even across the room.

“Revrend, Ickybod!” Three-year-old Clara Williams pulled on Ichabod’s pant leg, drawing his attention away from Abbie. Abbie smiled as Ichabod bent down on one knee so he was closer to eye level with the little girl, engaging her in animated conversation.

“He’s good with kids,” Frank observed, coming to stand beside Abbie, a cup of coffee in hand for her.

Abbie took the coffee and sipped. _Not bad,_ “I’m not surprised. He’s good with people in general.”

“True. True,” Irving watched Abbie watch Ichabod, completely unaware of the loving, almost _adoring_ look on her face, “So you have the answer to your question.”

Abbie turned to look at Frank sharply, “ _No_ , I don’t.”

“Yes, you _do,_ Mills. Yes you do.” Frank looked from Ichabod to Abbie, one more time, leaving her side when he saw Ichabod approaching her, now holding hands with little Clara.

“Hello Abbie.”

“Hello Ichabod,” Abbie smiled down at the little girl, “Who’s your friend?”

“Why this is Miss Clara Williams, age three of Sleepy Hollow,” Ichabod smile was playful.

Abbie smile blossomed into a full grin, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clara.”

“Mommy!” Clara let go of Ichabod’s hand to latch on to a short brunette that Abbie could only assume was Clara’s mother, “Hey sweetie, did you behave for Reverend Ichabod,” she asked turning to Crane, “Thank you for watching Clara while I went to the restroom. I swear it was just about the only time I’ve had alone all day.”

“No problem,” Ichabod replied kindly, “She’s a delight.”

Clara’s mother huffed, incredulous, before turning to Abbie, her hand extended, “Hi! I’m Mary Wells.”

Abbie shook Mary’s hand, looking at Ichabod over the older woman’s shoulder. His eyes were soft and filled with love, _No matter what you decide, I love you Treasure._

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” Abbie smiled broadly, “I’m Abbie Mills...Ichabod’s partner.”


	13. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See what had happened was...I was writing a fluff and smut update. Buuuttt, the ladies on twitter said "RELEASE THE FLUFF NOW" so here you have it:-)
> 
> The next chapter (call it Love Part II, The Smut) is already being written. But in the meantime, please enjoy this fluffy update that sees Abbie wanting to do something nice for Ichabod.
> 
> Comments are sooo going to get you the next update quicker, so have at it, (LOL). Thanks again for reading and mistakes are on me.

Abbie let herself into Ichabod’s apartment, groceries in hand. It was a Friday and Abbie had gotten off work early because she wanted to do something special for Ichabod. He’d been working a lot of hours the past week between church business, community engagement and meetings with the town. The church needed to expand and that meant fundraising, zone variances and construction plans. The man was exhausted even though he was thrilled to be leading his own congregation. Abbie wanted to show Ichabod she saw how hard he was working and that she was proud of him.

Rufus came out of the bedroom, stretching, “Ru,” Abbie greeted their pet, “We need to talk. No more scratching. You’re not keeping Ichabod from me, you’re keeping me from him. Got it?”

“Meow.”

“Good,” Abbie nodded, pointing her finger, ”Glad to hear it. But I have something for you right outside just in case you need a little more convincing.”

Abbie looked around the empty apartment, smiling at the book Ichabod had left on the coffee table, open and face down so he could pick up where he left off when he returned home. When Ichabod had casually slipped a spare key across the table not long after his installation reception, Abbie protested that she didn’t need a key to his place. But Ichabod insisted he had several good reasons and to please take the key. The first being that his place was closer to the police station than Abbie’s apartment and he wanted her to have a place to crash if she needed it. He worried about her and didn’t want Abbie to have to drive across town if she was tired and it was very late. The second reason was Rufus. Ichabod explained to Abbie that his life was going to get very busy now that he was officially the head minister and he didn’t want their cat to feel neglected. Abbie visiting with Rufus during the week would make him feel better. Abbie had quietly returned the favor, leaving a spare key to her apartment on Ichabod’s dresser and that was that.

She shook her head at the memory and walked into the kitchen to start dinner. Abbie had all of Ichabod’s favorites…chicken breast, root vegetables for roasting and an apple cobbler (courtesy of Mr. Gonzalez’ bakery) for dessert.  Abbie had the seasoned chicken in the oven along with the vegetables for about ten minutes when she heard the door to the apartment open.

“Abbie?”

“In the kitchen,” she said loud enough to be heard.

Ichabod came into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of the roasting chicken and vegetables, “What a nice surprise to find you here. Something smells wonderful.” Abbie walked over from the oven to the doorway rising up on her toes to kiss him in greeting. He was still dressed in what Abbie thought of as his “minister uniform”…khaki pants, a button down shirt and his collar. Abbie was no longer embarrassed that she thought Ichabod looked _fucking hot_ in his collar. She was going to Hell five ways to Sunday for her thoughts about him anyway, so _shrug._

“I wanted to make you dinner. I know how hard you’ve been working this week,” Abbie leaned back and stretched out the t-shirt she wore, “I hope you don’t care I borrowed this. I realized when I got here that I forgot to pack comfortable clothes.”

 “Not at all and you know I cleared out space for you to leave clothes here,” Ichabod raised an eyebrow in reminder and observed Abbie in his t-shirt and sweatpants, the legs rolled up several times to fit her small frame, “Nevertheless, the t-shirt is far better on you than it would ever be on me.”

"I don’t know about that,” Abbie smirked, thinking the dark red of the Harvard Divinity School t-shirt would look great with Ichabod’s beard, “But you look like you’re about to fall over,” Abbie remarked, worried about him – he looked _exhausted._

“Tired,” Ichabod gently dismissed Abbie concern, “A lot of very long hours and frustrating meetings.  Nothing more.  I’ll survive.”

“I know you will,” Abbie’s lips pressed into a line, “Let me run you a bath. You can relax, have dinner and then get some sleep.”

Ichabod bent down to kiss Abbie with appreciation, “That sounds lovely,” he said, looking back towards the office with purpose. Abbie knew what he needed to do, “Go and spend your time with God. I’ll run your bath, ok,” Abbie patted his check lightly, “I got this.”

Ichabod felt like he could barely keep his eyes open, but some things were even more important to him than sleep and he smiled again, turned and went into his office, softly closing the door.

Abbie took the chicken breasts and roasted vegetables out of the oven and went into the bathroom to run Ichabod’s bath, lighting candles in the room to give it atmosphere. Abbie hummed quietly as she moved around the room. She was _happy,_ happy with their relationship, happy with her work and happy to take care of this man who went out of his way to take care of so many others.

 _Speaking of which,_ Abbie thought, _He’s been in there for a minute._ Having been around several weekends, Abbie had a pretty good idea of how long Ichabod’s devotional time tended to last. Abbie went to the closed office door and knocked, “Ichabod?” she knocked again, opening the door slightly, “Ichabod?”

Abbie saw him slumped on his desk, head resting on his forearms, his bible off to the side by his head. Ichabod was sound asleep, knocked out with exhaustion, “Oh babe…”

“Ichabod,” Abbie lightly shook him awake, “Come baby, let’s get you in bed.”

Ichabod startled awake, somewhat embarrassed, “Well, this has never happened before,” He rubbed his face, trying to clear the cobwebs, “I’m truly sorry Treasure and you were so nice to cook for me.”

“And the food will be even better tomorrow for lunch,” Abbie affirmed, reaching under Ichabod’s arm to hoist him up, rather unnecessarily to Ichabod’s way of thinking, “I _can_ walk, Abbie.”

“Hey, you were knocked out,” Abbie quipped, “Not taking any chances.” The pair walked into the bedroom after Ichabod stopped by the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth.  He plopped on the bed, more tired than he wanted to admit.

Abbie bent down and took off Ichabod’s loafers and socks. He smiled at her efficiently disrobing him from the feet up, putting his shoes and socks to the side, “Collar, please,” Abbie stood, holding out her hand. Ichabod removed his collar and watched, fascinated as Abbie almost reverently placed it on his dresser, right beneath his cross. That wasn’t where Ichabod kept his collars but for some reason Abbie wanted it there, so that was fine with him.

Abbie looked at Ichabod over her shoulder, “What do you want to sleep in, babe?”

“Pajama bottoms are fine,” Ichabod answered around a jaw-breaking yawn.

Abbie reached under Ichabod’s pillow where he kept his pajama bottoms, handing them to him, “Out of those clothes, mister.”

"That’s quite the enticing command, Treasure,” Ichabod smirked with a tease.

“Well, if you weren’t so _damn_ tired,” Abbie smiled back, watching Ichabod take off his shirt and pants and put on his pajama bottoms, leaving his boxers in place. _“Spoilsport.”_

“I’m afraid so,” Ichabod pulled back the covers and got into bed, laying down with a deep sigh. He was really tired. Abbie turned off the bedside light and bent over with a smile, kissing his forehead and pushing back his curls, “Sweet dreams.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Treasure.”

“I just want to take care of you like you take care of me, Ichabod, “ her smile was loving, illuminated by the hallway light,”I love you,” Abbie said offhandedly before she could think better of it. Ichabod froze in the suddenly charged air and Abbie’s eyes met his like a deer caught in headlights, “Abbie…Treasure, if you want to take it back…if you’re not ready….”

Abbie slowly sat down next to Ichabod on the bed, taking his hand in both of hers, “No…no, I don’t want to take it back, Ichabod.  I really don’t.” Abbie kissed him, pouring all of her love into it, before rising from the bed and walking to the door, “I’m going to clean up the kitchen and put away the food. I won’t be long.”

“Very well,” Ichabod turned on his side away from Abbie to hide the big grin on his face. _I can’t help it,_ he thought.  She'd  _said_ it and he frankly didn't imagine _anything_ could sound better.

Abbie crawled into bed beside Ichabod, still wearing his t-shirt but nothing else except a pair of throng underwear. She snuggled against his back, pressing herself to him and wrapping her legs around his. The unusual warmth and softness gently woke Ichabod up for a moment, “Where’s our cat?” he whispered.

“Enjoying the brand new cat bed I got for her along with her catnip stuffed animals,” Abbie whispered back matter-of-factly, rubbing her face along his shoulder blades with an almost purr.

“So you bribed Rufus with a new bed and got her intoxicated on catnip toys,” Ichabod chuckled lightly. Abbie never ceased to amaze, “Why?”

Abbie moved her hand along Ichabod’s chest, feeling the muscles flex under her touch, “Because I wanted to do _this_.”

“Well, in that case, job well done,” Ichabod said sleepily and took Abbie’s hand in his, holding it to his chest and her body tighter against his back, “Abbie?”

“Hmmm.”

“Say it again,” Ichabod swallowed, his eyes closing as if in prayer, “Please.”

Abbie kissed Ichabod’s bare back and whispered the declaration with a sincerity and truth he felt deep in his soul, “I love you, Ichabod Crane.”


	14. Communion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn finally ignites into a raging fire between Abbie and Ichabod. Thanks so much for coming along on this writing adventure with me. There will be a short epilogue next but otherwise this story is done. It was an experiment - could I write an ichabbie slow burn? Could I write Frank? Could I write Ichabod as a minister and make it work - somewhat? And could I do it without any real idea of where it was headed?
> 
> Thanks to each and every person who read, left kudos and especially comments. Your support got this fic done. Thank you.
> 
> And now, 2600 words of smut with feels. As always enjoy and mistakes are on me.

Ichabod opened his eyes to the bright morning, feeling relaxed and well rested. Abbie was still snuggled against him, her shorter legs wrapped around his, using his body for warmth, he suspected…not that he minded. She was so forceful and powerful when awake, but Ichabod loved when Abbie was asleep and he was able to just watch her…the real Grace Abigail Mills, not meant to take on the world alone like a hurricane, but soft and loving and so very _beautiful._

Abbie opened her eyes to see Ichabod looking at her with so much love it took her breath away, “Good Morning Ichabod.”

“Yes, it is Treasure,” Ichabod’s smile rivaled the sun streaming into the windows, “Truly.”

Abbie stretched as she rubbed her legs against Ichabod, “Did you sleep ok?”

“Better than I ever thought possible.”

“Oh, ok,” Abbie chuckled at how extra Ichabod was being, “So you didn’t mind _not_ being swatted and scratched during the night.”

Ichabod pulled Abbie firmly against his body, letting her feel his morning hardness and enjoying the moan she didn’t bother to hide, “When I can have this instead? Hardly.”

“Hardly, huh?” Abbie rolled over on top of Ichabod and he was instantly aware that his t-shirt was the only real clothing she wore. The heat from her seared him and he felt himself swell even more. Abbie rubbed against him, grinding with a soft, “You feel so good…” before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up his body, sliding along every inch of him. Ichabod’s hand automatically reached out to steady her and got a handful of glorious backside. He would have sworn it wasn’t possible but Ichabod was now the hardest he’d ever remembered being in his life. “Treasure…”

“Hmmm,” Abbie was kissing along his neck and down his chest, sliding against him as she went. Her core caught on the tip of him through his underwear and pajama bottom and Ichabod saw stars. She was wet and hot and _right there_.

Abbie took one of his nipples in her mouth, biting softly, “Abbie, please!”

She instantly looked up at Ichabod, concerned, “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop baby.”

He panted with a self-deprecating huff, “If you stop, I think I’ll burst into flames.”

Abbie’s hand slid between them as she shifted slightly to the side, resting on his hip, “Can I touch you,” she asked softly. She’d seen all of Ichabod, but hadn’t touched him…yet.

His smile was teasing, “You better.”

With an answering smile, Abbie’s hand continued down until she cupped him. His body jumped at the feeling of her small, but strong hand stroking him through the layers of clothing, “We have on too many clothes,” he groaned.

“Do we now?” Abbie mocked lovingly as sat back on her knees. Never taking her eyes off him, she pulled the t-shirt over her head, baring herself. Ichabod’s mouth watered and he sat up quickly, eager to suck on her glorious breasts. He pulled Abbie to his face as he sucked on her left nipple, “Oh my God,” Abbie moaned lowly, feeling how wet her underwear was suddenly. Ichabod went at her breasts like a man starved, moving from one to the other with a mumbled, “I love your breasts…hmmm,” releasing her with an audible “pop” and lustful smile.

Abbie held his face against her chest, running her fingers through his hair, trying to catch her breath, “I thought you said we have too many clothes on.”

“I’m willing to let you help me solve the problem.”

Abbie’s smile was wicked as she pushed on Ichabod’s shoulders, encouraging him to lay back down.  She was feeling playful and light, but also aware that they were entering new territory. Abbie wanted to eat this man like he was a two piece and a biscuit but first things first, “Is there anything off limits,” she asked.

“What?” Ichabod asked, raising his head slightly.

“Is there anything we can’t do,” Abbie repeated, rubbing her hands up and down his chest, catching in the fine hairs with a tug, “Anything that would get you in trouble?”

Suddenly Ichabod understood, “You mean as a minister?” Abbie nodded.

“Oh Treasure,” Ichabod loved how considerate Abbie was about his faith and position, “No, we are two consenting, single adults in a committed relationship and as long as we remain so, there is nothing we can’t do with and to each other…as we wish.”

“Well in that case,” Abbie raised eyebrow was the only warning Ichabod had before she pulled at his pajama bottom and boxers. Ichabod lifted his hips without even thinking about it. Before he could finish his next coherent thought, Abbie had him naked and took him into her mouth with intent, pulling almost his entire length towards the back of her throat.

“Ah sh-!” It had been some time since Ichabod had been on the receiving end of oral sex and Abbie seemed determined that he would never want another woman’s mouth on him again, as if that wasn’t _already_ the case.  Abbie used her lips to create a powerful suction as she moved toward his tip, swirling her tongue around as if he were an ice cream cone before diving back down again.

“Abbie…treasure…it’s been a very long time and I,” Ichabod gasped when Abbie opened her throat and he felt the head slide into it, “You do that too well.” Ichabod knew he was on the verge of embarrassing himself and Abbie seemed perfectly willing to push him over the edge, “Have mercy.”

Abbie released him with a smirk that told Ichabod she knew she was good at getting men to beg for mercy, “Ever since we took that bath, I’ve wanted to do that. You have a beautiful cock,” Abbie explained before flashing sudden alarm, “Can I call your penis a cock?”

Ichabod’s eyebrow quipped, “Considering you just deep-throated me, I’d say you’ve earned the right.”

“Good,” Abbie took hold of him again, sliding her small hand up and down his shaft, spreading the pre-cum, “So what do you want to do now?”

Ichabod sat up and flipped Abbie over onto her back – with her full cooperation of course, Ichabod knew that if she wanted to resist him, he would be flat on _his_ back and probably unconscious, “I want to return the favor,” he looked down at Abbie’s body laid out before him like a feast, his eyes settling on that little scrap of cloth she called underwear, “You are so beautiful.”

Abbie couldn’t believe it when Ichabod put his face to her crotch and simply…inhaled…deeply. Without missing a beat, he exhaled slowly, letting Abbie feel his breath slide across her clit like a hot breeze, “Exquisite…you smell exquisite,” Ichabod murmured, reaching to pull the elastic piece of nothing down Abbie’s legs, “I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.” Before Abbie could respond, Ichabod tossed her underwear over his shoulder, lifted her legs over his elbows and bent down low on the bed, opening her with his tongue. Abbie instinctively tried to scramble away, it felt _too_ good, but Ichabod held fast, moving his hands underneath her ass, pulling her clit into his mouth with a loud moan of pleasure, “Ichabod, I…I,.” Abbie’s back arched off the bed as she came hard, the pleasure taking her under over and over again like a wave. Ichabod grunted deep in his chest as he lapped up the juices that Abbie knew were flowing. She could _feel_ it. “I can’t…stop baby.”

Ichabod lifted his head to look at Abbie’s flushed face, her chest heaving with her arousal and release. _You've still got it, Ichabod,_ he congratulated himself.

He let Abbie recover, placing soothing kisses along her inner thighs, “I want you so badly, Treasure,” the drop in his voice made Abbie clinch, “But I’m not prepared. That is to say, I didn’t purchase anything and –“

“Babe, look at me,” Abbie interrupted hoping to spare him any more concern as Ichabod lifted his head, his body still nestled between her thighs, “I’ve been on birth control since I was eighteen. And after the moron and I broke up, I got tested, just to be safe. No diseases and no chance of babies. Ok?”

Ichabod sat up then, still between Abbie legs, rubbing up and down her thighs, thoughtful, “I’m thankful you’re healthy…I am too, by the way. But I wouldn’t be opposed to a baby…someday.” His eyes flicked to Abbie’s, assessing her reaction.

“Neither would I…someday,” Abbie realized the truth of the words as she said them. She didn’t want a baby _now_ but she would love to see Ichabod with their child, “You’d be a great Dad.”

Ichabod exhaled with a smile. Abbie watched as his expression changed. He looked at her like _she_ was the two piece and a biscuit, “Turn over.”

Her eyes closed involuntarily at the command. _Well damn_ , she thought turning over to wait for what Ichabod had in mind. Abbie felt him move to her side, sitting back on his heels. He just…looked at her before starting, “Your bum is a work of art,” he leaned over and placed open mouthed kisses along each perfect globe, “I wish I could paint or draw just so I could do it _some_ justice.”

Abbie’s breath caught, _He is literally kissing my ass. Fuuuck me._ The kisses, hot and wet, moved up her spine, one vertebrae at a time. _Oh my God,_ Abbie’s hip moved, grinding into the bed, trying to find relief for the fire Ichabod was fanning all along her body. _How does he do this?_

Ichabod reached the top of Abbie’s spine, nipping at the skin there, making Abbie practically hump the bed. “Turn over, Treasure.”

Abbie turned over and looked at Ichabod as he lowered himself gently over her, rubbing his cock along her folds but still careful to keep most of his weight on his forearms as he kissed the side of her neck. Ichabod looked as far gone as she felt. His face was pink, pupils blown so much Abbie could barely see the blue...he was long and hard and, _Sweet Baby Jesus_ _forgive her_ , but Abbie wanted all that length inside her more than she wanted her next breath.

“Ichabod,” Abbie panted underneath him, squirming desperately but still aware, “It’s been five years for you. You’re _sure_ you don’t want to wait,” she asked bracing herself to accept his answer, “for the right one.”

Ichabod stopped kissing Abbie’s neck and lifted up to look her in the eye. He saw her love. He saw her need. But most of all he saw her strength and what it took for her to let him see her _this_ vulnerable, “Abbie, my dearest treasure, worth a price far above rubies,” Ichabod smiled, stroking her hair, “I did wait for the right one and I’m so grateful that she loves me as much as I love her.”

Abbie reached up and kissed Ichabod, both of her hands cradling his face as she nipped softly as his lips. Breaking the kiss, she spread her legs wider and reached between them for Ichabod’s length, guiding him, “Show me.”

_For the rest of my life, I swear to God,_ Ichabod made a silent vow as he pushed into Abbie, looking into her eyes, needing her to see what this moment meant for him…for them.  _Communion_.

“I love you Abbie.”

His words. The feel of him around and and in her made Abbie’s eyes roll and her back arch, pushing her breasts against him as he slowly, slowly claimed her, “Oh…oh,” she forced herself to keep her eyes open as she felt her walls grip him, pulling him deeper inside her, “I love you too.”

Ichabod was long and thick and the stretch was _fucking amazing_ as he bottomed out. Abbie was actually impressed she’d been able to take all of him. She knew she’d walk a bit funny for a couple of days, but to hell with it, she didn’t care. She wanted the good Reverend Crane to pound her into the sheets and Abigail Mills learned early in life...if you don’t ask, you don’t get.

Ichabod held still, feeling Abbie contract around him – it was heavenly – but he was a big man and she was a small woman and he didn’t want to hurt her, “Abbie, are you alright?”

“I’m better than alright baby,” Abbie said kissing Ichabod, dueling her tongue with his and biting his lower lip with a needful groan, “Now fuck me. _Please.”_

Ichabod let out a bonafide growl that made Abbie practically drip around him inside her. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders and bracing himself declared, “As my lady wishes.”

The first withdrawal and thrust forward had Abbie climbing towards another climax.  He felt…he felt… _shit_ …Abbie gave up trying to find the words. The only thing she could do was hold on and lift her hips to meet him, “Ah…Ah…Ah…oh God…so good, baby. So good… _fuck._ ”

With every withdrawal Abbie’s walls held on to his cock like life depended on it.  Ichabod had never felt anything like it.  After several thrusts, the tingling and tightening in his balls warned him that he didn’t have much time, “Abbie, come for me…that’s it…touch yourself for me.” Ichabod encouraged Abbie’s when he saw her hand moving towards her clit. The feeling of her hand sliding along his length as he entered her made him speed up even more. He alternated between watching her face slack with the increasing pleasure and the unimaginably erotic sight of his cock being welcomed over and over again into her body - the same way she’d welcomed him into her heart.  Ichabod felt Abbie’s climax a second before she did and let himself go, content that he wasn’t leaving her behind.

Ichabod rolled over beside Abbie, careful not to collapse on her petite frame, “You’re amazing.”

Abbie looked over at Ichabod, a satisfied chuckle escaping with a huff, “I think you just raised the bar on amazing.”

“Come here,” Ichabod opened his arm pulling Abbie next to him, snuggling her into his side.

Abbie played with the hair on his chest, toying with a question, “No regrets?” She felt the kiss at the crown of her head, “None whatsoever, Abbie. None.”

“Ok,” Ichabod could feel Abbie’s smile against his side. His heart swelled.

Ichabod reached for her, lifting her face to they could see each other, “I need to say something.”

Abbie shifted so he could remove his hand, but she could still see his face. He had gone serious and her eyebrows drew together with a bit of worry, “What is it?”

“I want…I want to ask you to marry me…someday,” Ichabod put both arms around Abbie and he shifted to look directly into her eyes, “and if that’s not something you want from me, I will of course respect that, but I wanted to be honest with you.”

“Still keeping your promise to yourself, huh?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Abbie reached up to kiss Ichabod gently and putting her head down on his chest, wrapped her arms under where he held her, listening to his heart beat, deciding to be as honest with him as he had always been with her, “Ok…well then ask me…someday.”

“Someday?” Ichabod's eyes closed as he offered up a prayer,  _Dear God, Thank you for Grace Abigail Mills and for rewarding my faith that I would find her._

Abbie rubbed her face against his chest and looked out the window towards the trees, just starting to bud.  The day was bright and clear. Spring was finally back after a long, bleak winter.

“Yes. Someday.”

 

 

 

 


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what the title says - a little peak into what the future holds for Abbie Mills and the Minister. Thanks again for reading. I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Oh and a little fic head canon: Rufus the cat is named after a favorite professor Ichabod had in college. That professor was Rufus Carlin from Timeless. I'll let you figure out what Rittenhouse wanted with Ichabod Crane that the Timeless Team had to stop. That is someone else's story to write.
> 
> Comments are welcome, kudos are cool and mistakes are my own.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Reverend Leena Reyes smiled at the couple, “Abbie, you may now kiss your husband.”

Abbie reached up and pulled Ichabod down for a kiss that almost made him blush, but he wasn’t about to complain.  Grace Abigail Mills was now Grace Abigail Mills Crane and if she wanted to make him blush with the passion of her kisses, he would blush happily for the rest of his life.

Frank Irving approached Leena at the reception. Abbie and Ichabod were slow dancing to their wedding song, “So, it seems I owe you some money.”

Leena looked over at Frank. She’d come back from sabbatical to officiate the wedding at Ichabod’s request.  He’d told her that next to his mother, there was no one he would rather have marry him to the woman of his dreams.  That alone was worth the twenty hour flight from Bora Bora…taking Frank Irving’s money was just icing on the cake.

“Yes, I believe you said it would take a year for Abbie to agree to marry Ichabod.”

“I did…and you said it would take six months tops,” he replied, handing over the twenty dollar bill.  Leena took it with a smile but noticed some writing on it, “Abbie?” her face quizzical.

“Abbie came with me to Sunday service, where as you know she met Crane,” Frank explained, “I bet her twenty bucks that she would enjoy the service. She lost the bet. I kept her twenty for luck – I was rooting for those two.”

“Why Frank, you softy,” Reyes turned to observe Abbie and Ichabod so obviously in love, “But you’re right…I think we were all rooting for them.”

“How did you know if would only take six months,” Frank side eyed the reverend, “You didn’t know Abbie.”

Reyes pocketed the twenty with a smile, “I didn’t need to know Abbie.  I knew Ichabod.”

__________

“Ichabod,” Abbie laughed, “Put me down!”

“Now Treasure, it is tradition that a man carries his wife over the threshold of their home.”

“Ok Reverend Traditional,” Abbie smirked, as he placed her gently on her feet in their new three bedroom, two bath house in Sleepy Hollow.  Abbie was sold on the craftsman style house because of the open layout and the kitchen.  Ichabod was sold on the front porch swing, telling her, “Just imagine the summer evenings after work, enjoying each other’s company as the sun goes down?”

They didn’t think they’d be able to afford the house, but Ichabod’s father had told them they could have Ichabod’s part of the estate his wife had left when she died if they wanted it early.  It was just enough for a solid down payment on the house. Abbie had hugged Archibald “Archie” Crane for his generosity.

Ichabod opened the cat carrier and Rufus came out slowly, sniffing her new home, “I think Rufus will quite like this house,” he observed.

“You know what else I think Rufus is going to like,” Abbie asked, putting her arms around her husband.

“What’s that, Treasure?”

“Being an older sister…”

Ichabod face showed his confusion until his brain caught up with his ears and he lifted Abbie in his arms again, swinging her around the empty living room. 

Isabella Crane was born six months later. She had her mother’s eyes and her father’s curls.

__________

“Daddy, where’s mommy,” four year old Isabella Crane asked from atop her father’s shoulders.

“She should be coming up any moment, Bella.” Abbie was marching in the Sleepy Hollow Memorial Day Parade with a contingent of local police offices, including Captain Frank Irving.

“My Mommy’s a police officer,” Isabella said proudly to the little boy next to her on his father’s shoulders. August Corbin was a recent widower and his son Joe got him out the house by begging to come to the parade. August didn’t want to go, but there’s wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for his five year old son.

“She’s more than that. Your mummy is a Leftenant,” Ichabod said, turning slightly to look up at the little girl.

“Lefttant,” Isabella asked, trying out the word, “Almost sweetheart, but close enough,” Ichabod encouraged.

They both saw Abbie as she rounded the corner walking in the middle of the street with the other police officers. The day was a hot one and Abbie’s feet were swollen, but she loved this town and showing them that the police could be good allies for the community was important to her. Over the years, she’d mentored kids trying to get clean as part of her police duties. Tommy sometimes still showed up in her dreams and Abbie accepted he always would.  But when he did, Ichabod held her, reminding Abbie of all the _good_ her life held, including their little girl.

Isabella waved at Abbie with both hands, “Leftant Mommy! Leftant Mommy!!!”

“Leftenent Mommy?” Frank laughed as he and Abbie waved to Bella and Ichabod.

Abbie looked over at her friend, “Are you making fun of my little girl? You know I’ll break your face for that, right?”

“Stand down mama bear,” Frank deadpanned, “I wouldn’t make fun of my goddaughter.  Now her mother on the other hand…” Frank shrugged.

“I hate your ass,” Abbie shook her head with a small smile.  Frank Irving would never change and Abbie would never want him to.

“Yeah, but you _owe_ my ass,” Frank replied, “If it weren’t for me, you might be married to Morales.”

“Oh, now I _really_ hate your ass,” Abbie said drily, still waving to the crowds as the parade continued, “But assuming you’re correct, how do I repay this mammoth debt I owe you.”

“Well Mills, if this next kid is a boy, name him after me.”

Abbie turned to Frank, incredulous, “How’d you…never mind,” she said turning back to face front, “Assume you know everything.”

“Exactly…assume I know everything.”

Franklin Clifford Crane was born six months later. He looked nothing like his namesake, but for reasons Abbie never wanted to explain, seemed to know everything.


End file.
